The Ties that Bind
by EmperorsConcerto
Summary: "Why did no-one ever tell me?" "I thought it was too dangerous. I was trying to protect you." The young witch shook her head in disbelief. "I had a right to know." Everything Bonnie Bennett thought she knew is about to change. Alliances shift and bonds will be tested as she bravely shoulders a new destiny and faces her deadliest enemy. Damon/Bonnie pairing. Bonnie-centric. AU.
1. Something's Coming

**Author's note: **

So this is my first time writing for this fandom and I am a little nervous. It is completely AU so ignore everything from canon because I am going to be making up my own stuff.

This is a Bonnie-centric story that will feature a Damon/Bonnie pairing.

I will borrow elements from the show, but they won't necessarily be featured in the same way.

Finally, this story does not follow or take place in any existing timeline on the actual show. But the Salvatores have been back in Mystic Falls for a while when the story starts.

If any of this is not to your liking, you may want to click the 'Back' button now. Otherwise, keep reading. Thanks for giving my little fic a chance!

**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. Any familiar characters or recognisable dialogue is the property of the CW. No copyright infringement is intended.**

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**1**

**SOMETHING'S COMING**

It was Friday night and Mystic Grill was packed. Tucked away at a booth near the back, Bonnie sat on her own finishing her supper. She ignored the pair of eyes presently burning a hole in her head, knowing they could only belong to one person. But she was in no mood to deal with Damon Salvatore tonight.

She had not seen him since they returned from their disastrous road trip the previous weekend. Bonnie still didn't know how to feel about what had happened, so now that another crisis had been averted, she decided it was best if she just steered clear of the vampire.

Still, it had been weighing on her all week. The young witch couldn't help but feel that the events of that weekend were only the beginning. Her instincts were fairly screaming at her that something was about to shift. Something was coming. And she had no idea if she was prepared for it.

"You want a refill?"

Matt's voice snapped her out of her musings. He gestured to her empty glass. She was surprised she hadn't even noticed him approach her table.

"I'm good thanks," She gave him a small smile but it didn't reach her eyes. Bonnie played idly with her discarded straw paper. "I think I'm gonna get out of here though."

"Sure, I'll bring the cheque," Matt paused and gave her an assessing look. "Bon, are you okay? You looked pretty deep in thought when I came over here."

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him she was fine, but she stopped herself. She and Matt had grown up together; they were practically family. And he knew her well enough to tell when something was up.

"I may have a few things on my mind," She admitted. "It's just been a really long week."

Matt didn't look entirely convinced, but he didn't push.

"Don't you get off soon?" Bonnie asked suddenly.

"Way to change the subject, Bon." He sounded vaguely amused by her obvious attempt to get the attention off of her.

She glared at him playfully.

"I'm only asking because I know your truck's in the shop and I was going to offer you a ride. But hey, you can always hitch with Chad and his sex mobile."

Matt visibly shuddered at the thought of the promiscuous bar tender that had a certain way with the ladies.

"No way! That would be a health code violation. I don't even want to think about what's been left on those seats!"

"Oh gross!" Bonnie made a face.

"Hey! You brought it up. But I'll take you up on that ride. I get to punch out in ten."

Bonnie nodded in agreement and watched him head back towards the bar, chuckling to himself as he muttered 'sex mobile'.

In the next moment, she realized her mistake when her gaze met with a pair of cerulean orbs. She kept her expression carefully neutral and then casually looked away, hoping he'd take the hint.

He didn't.

"Don't pretend you didn't see me just now, Judgey," Damon suddenly dropped into the seat opposite her. "You looked right at me."

"I'm not pretending anything. I'm ignoring you," She said coldly. Her eyes were directed at his face but she didn't really see him. Didn't really _want_ to see him.

Then she added, "I would think you could tell when you aren't wanted. You've certainly had enough experience."

This last part came out a little crueller than she had intended. Damon looked taken aback by the sudden venom in her words and a look of hurt flashed briefly in his eyes. But the expression was gone almost as quickly as it came, and the mask dropped into place.

"Would you like to tell me the reason for this sudden hostility?" Damon spoke through his teeth.

"It's not sudden."

"True," He admitted. "But given _recent events_, I thought we were calling a truce." She didn't like the way Damon was looking at her. As if he was trying to peer into her soul. "So why do you hate me again today?"

Bonnie looked incredulous. She was suddenly furious with him. Couldn't believe he would sit here with her, asking that, as if he'd never done anything wrong.

"Why do I hate you?" Bonnie practically sputtered; her coldness exploding into a burst of heated outrage. "There are too many reasons to count! Let's start with the way you used Caroline. You nearly destroyed her just so you could mess with your brother and Elena. And then there's the small matter of you trying to _kill_ me."

"Are you ever going to stop throwing that in my face?" Damon sounded bored. "It was _a year_ ago. And you're missing the main point. Which is I _didn't _kill you. I could have; if I wanted to. But I didn't. And I don't. Does that not count for anything?"

"Oh please! Your act only works on an audience, Damon. And _Elena_ isn't here. So cut the bullshit. If Stefan hadn't been there, you would have left me for dead without a second thought. I'm _alive _because of _Stefan_."

"That's right, it's always Stefan. He's the saint and I'm the sinner," He spat the words out like nails and didn't even bother to mask the bitter resentment in his voice. But Bonnie was unmoved.

"You sound like a whiny brat," She said bluntly, refusing to cater to his pity party.

"Me! You're the one being childish! You're sitting here pouting over a little blood."

If looks could kill, a certain vampire would be six feet under. Or doing his best impression of a flaming torch. But Damon steam rolled on.

"Tell me, Bon-bon," He snapped, what little patience he had was officially spent. "If you are _that_ angry with me, if you hate me so much, then why did you do it? Why did you break your _one rule_ to save _my life_?"

That brought her up short. Her mouth opened as if she would respond, but she didn't have an answer. Why had she done it? Yes, Damon would have suffered if she hadn't. But at least she wouldn't have abandoned her morals. And that's what bothered her the most. The fact that she'd done that for Damon Salvatore, of all people, made it ten times worse. And of course, being Damon, he wasn't going to miss out on the opportunity to throw that in her face.

"Is everything okay?"

Bonnie had never been more grateful for Matt's timely appearance. He took a protective step towards his friend when he saw who was with her, not sure what he had just interrupted. Damon inwardly scoffed. As if the blonde jock would ever stand a chance against him.

The young witch immediately got to her feet.

"Everything's fine," She responded quickly, paying no more mind to the vampire. "You ready to go?"

Damon couldn't help but feel a little offended at her obvious eagerness to get away from him.

"_I would think you could tell when you aren't wanted. You've certainly had enough experience."_

Her earlier words echoed in his head. He'd be lying if he said that hadn't stung. But he and Bonnie were similar that way, always knowing exactly which buttons to push. For once though, Damon hadn't actually come over with the intention of antagonising her. But, judgey little witch that she was, Bonnie just had a way of getting under his skin. He would never admit it, but he secretly enjoyed their verbal sparring. She was the only one who could go toe-to-toe with him, and give back as good as she got.

He watched as Matt and Bonnie disappeared through the Grill's exit, the scent of Jasmine, _Bonnie's_ scent, growing fainter. The vampire huffed.

"Damn Judgey didn't even say goodbye."

Looking for a distraction, he noticed a buxom brunette eyeing him from the bar. Damon smirked.

_Dinner time._

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

"So what was that about?"

They had been driving for about ten minutes. Bonnie took the left turn that would get them on the road to Matt's house. He lived on the east side of Mystic Woods so there was a slightly deserted stretch of road before they reached the suburb.

"Damon was just being...well, Damon," She brushed it off.

Matt arched an eyebrow at that. It was no secret that Bonnie and Damon couldn't stand each other, and their bickering wasn't unusual. But that didn't account for the weird tension he had sensed when he found the two of them earlier. It also hadn't escaped Matt's notice that the elder Salvatore had been watching Bonnie from almost the moment he entered the Grill.

"Bon, did something..."

He never got to finish his question. Just then the engine of Bonnie's Prius made a very discouraging sound and started to sputter.

"What the hell?" They were losing speed and Bonnie was forced to guide the dying car to the shoulder of the road. She tried to start the engine again. Nothing. Not even that tell-tale hissing sound. And her head lights were no longer working either.

"This is turning into some night, huh?" Matt offered her a lopsided smile. They both got out of the car and Matt popped the hood to see what the problem was.

"Well, this is weird."

"What?" Bonnie said, a little distractedly as she looked over the surrounding landscape. She had the oddest feeling; a prickly sensation at the back of her neck. She felt like they were being watched.

"The engine is fine. I mean, everything is in working order. There's no reason why it should have failed like this."

At Matt's words, her sense of foreboding only grew. Her witchy senses were tingling and Bonnie knew by now to trust her instincts. Nothing about this picture was right and the weight that had settled in her belly was quickly spiralling up into a throbbing of dread.

"Matt, get back in the car."

"Bonnie, what..."

"Now! Just get inside."

"I'm afraid it's a little late for that."

Bonnie didn't even have time to respond. The stranger seemed to materialise out of thin air behind them. She uttered an incantation and Bonnie watched in horror as Matt dropped to the ground, hitting his head on the edge of the side mirror as he went down.

She tried to go to him but found her limbs were frozen in place, as though they had been glued to the earth.

"What did you do to him?!" She cried angrily.

"Don't worry, Miss Bennett. It's just a simple sleeping spell. He'll come round in a few hours. Now try not to struggle too much, you'll only make it harder on yourself."

Before Bonnie could utter another word she felt a terrible pressure inside her head, as though the very walls of her mind were being hammered on by an anvil. The last thought she had was whether this is what Damon felt every time she gave him an aneurysm.

And then the world faded to black.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_**24 hours later**_

Well this was a turn up for the books, Damon thought.

So the little witch had been kidnapped.

Served her right for ditching him. For a moment Damon enjoyed being petty. He sipped his bourbon, a bored expression on his face as he listened to Stefan, Elena and Caroline continue to talk in circles.

Two hours earlier, Elena and Caroline had burst into the boarding house, frantic with worry since they received a phone call from Matt. He and Bonnie had been attacked the night before, and now Bonnie was missing.

"It's going to be okay, Elena," Stefan spoke reassuringly. "Bonnie is one of the strongest people I know. And we're going to do whatever we can to find her. I promise."

The pretty brunette looked up at him gratefully from beneath her lashes.

"Thank you, Stefan," She took his hand in her own, intertwining her fingers with his. "That means so much to me."

Stefan gave her a reassuring smile and then not so subtly extracted his hand from hers. Elena's expression fell slightly at this. Something that wasn't lost on Damon, who had been watching the exchange. The frown on his face deepened.

When his brother made the decision to walk away and broke up with Elena, no-one had been more surprised than Damon. That had been a month ago.

Elena hadn't exactly fallen into his arms, but Damon knew she was close to giving in. They had already kissed, twice, and she had finally admitted to having feelings for him.

So it was more than a little annoying to see the sometimes soulful looks she gave Stefan, or the hand that lingered on his arm a little too long to be purely friendly.

Damon drained his glass and ignored the tic in his jaw.

He would wait her out. Elena had been blind-sighted when Stefan took the choice out of her hands. She just needed some time and then she would come to him. Damon would get his girl this time, and then maybe that hole in his heart would finally knit itself back together again.

"Does Sheila know?" He finally decided to enter the discussion.

"Matt was at Bonnie's house when he called Caroline," Elena told him. "Her Grams was trying to perform a locater spell. But whoever took Bonnie knew how to block it."

"Definitely another witch then," Damon mused. "Did Matt happen to say what this witch looked like? Did she have any kind of distinguishing tattoo or mark?"

"What are you getting at Damon?" Stefan eyed his brother curiously.

"Bonnie and I had a run-in of our own recently, with four warlocks. And they all had this same weird mark, like a tattoo, on their neck. If someone took out three of your friends, you might want a little payback."

"Bonnie did WHAT?!"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why didn't you mention this before?"

Caroline, Elena and Stefan all spoke at once.

"One at a time children," Damon grimaced at the cacophony of noise that assaulted his sensitive hearing.

"First of all, they attacked us. Bonnie acted in self-defence," She had saved his life. But Damon decided he didn't need to mention that detail. "I didn't tell you because it was council business, and Bonnie didn't want to worry anyone. I respected her decision." Damon ignored the looks of surprise on two faces when he said this. "And I didn't mention it before, because it wasn't relevant. Until now."

He and Bonnie had wordlessly agreed not to mention exactly what had happened that weekend. As far as she was concerned, the whole business was over with so there was no need to bring it up. Damon knew that wasn't the only reason she wanted to keep things quiet, but oddly enough, he found himself willing to keep her confidence. The witch _did_ save his life. He owed her.

Besides, he didn't feel like the inevitable lecture he would get from Stefan and Elena, in turn, if they found out. Even if what happened wasn't remotely his fault, and Bonnie had volunteered of her own free will to go through with it.

Stefan looked at him sceptically, like he suspected there were a few key details his brother was leaving out. But Elena was the first to respond.

"I guess I can understand that. But you know you can always talk to me. You can trust me," She told him sweetly. Damon's expression softened as he looked at her, something uncharacteristically tender entering his gaze.

"I know," He murmured softly.

Stefan looked away uncomfortably and Caroline rolled her eyes. Fortunately, the awkward silence was broken by the blonde's mobile ringing. Caroline frowned at the strange number flashing on the screen, and hesitantly pressed accept.

"Hello?" She said cautiously.

In the next moment Damon was sure his ear drums had shattered as the former cheerleader let out a piercing shriek before,

"Oh My GOD! Bonnie?! Is that you?"

**TBC**

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**AN 2: **So that's the first chapter! If there's interest I'll continue. And rest assured Bamon fans, this is NOT going to be a Bonnie/Damon/Elena triangle fic. Miss Gilbert will soon fade into the background. Thanks for reading! Feedback is most welcome.


	2. The Kindness of Strangers

**Author: **Thank you so much for your enthusiastic response! To my reviewers, thank you for your encouraging words. Hope everyone enjoys the new chapter.

**Disclaimer: **I own absolutely nothing. No copyright infringement is intended.

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**2**

**THE KINDNESS OF STRANGERS**

_**16 hours earlier**_

_She was running._

_Her footfalls echoed loudly against the walls of the empty hallway, pounding against the checked marble floor._

_The first door to her left and then down the second staircase. Another left when she reached the bottom. _

_Past the blue drawing room. _

_Then turn right at the end of the corridor. She was almost there. Just a little further and she would reach the front door. _

_She would be free. _

_Her hand grasped the door knob. It turned. It wasn't locked. _

_Almost there. _

_The door opened and..._

_NO!_

_She was back where she started! _

_Bonnie sank to her knees, digging her fingernails into the rich fabric of the Persian rug beneath her. Her chest tightened painfully as that glimmer of hope grew fainter with each failed attempt._

_That had been her tenth try. _

_Every time she tried to leave, every time she thought she had found another route, she wound up back in that hideous bedroom on the upper level of the house. She had even tried jumping off the roof, only to find she had landed on her back, in the middle of a large four poster bed, back in the room._

_Bonnie wasn't an idiot. She knew there was something adjusting this reality. That she must be under some sort of illusion. But whatever rabbit hole she had been shoved down, she knew there had to be a way out._

_So she kept trying. _

_The young witch inhaled sharply and glared at the bedroom door that was always left slightly ajar, each time she landed back here. Taunting her. But she wasn't going to give in. _

_Again, she tried to use her magic, furiously chanting the spell of revelation as she looked for a weakness in the illusion. Some way to break it. Her emerald eyes flashed gold with the force of the magic she was trying to use._

_Bang!_

_Bonnie jumped as, one by one, all the lights in the room suddenly burst._

_Crack!_

_The window shattered. Had the spell worked?_

_Bonnie! Bonnie, come away!_

_There was a disembodied voice drifting in the air and the young witch screamed as she felt herself yanked violently back._

Light erupted on all sides, dispelling the image of that room; that isolated palace. Blinking a few times to gain focus, her mind worked rapidly to help her realize where she was and how she had gotten there. Only then did her eyes widen as she suddenly became aware of her surroundings.

She was lying on a narrow bed in a dingy motel room, the worn comforter rough against the bare skin of her arms. The room itself was a complete shambles, like the scene of a particularly violent domestic dispute. Vastra, the witch who had taken her, was significantly absent. Two men lay unconscious on the floor and from the way their heads lolled she realized their necks had been snapped.

Bonnie swallowed hard against the bile that started to burn in her throat. This was certainly not the first time she had been around a dead body, but she didn't find it any less unsettling.

Turning away, Bonnie realised she had failed to notice the third occupant of the room. Standing at the foot of the bed was a young man. He didn't look more than twenty eight, his blonde curls giving him an almost boyish appearance. But his eyes, sea-coloured wells of knowledge, looked ancient. And they were fixed on her, drinking her in. She reached out with her senses, trying to get a read on his energy signature to confirm what she already suspected.

He was something supernatural.

"Are you alright?" He spoke softly into the charged silence. He had an English accent.

"I..." She hesitated. "Did you kill those men?" Bonnie asked boldly.

"Yes," He answered bluntly, without any remorse.

"Are you going to kill me?" Her voice shook slightly, but she fought to keep her expression neutral.

The stranger frowned at her words.

"Never," He responded and Bonnie was surprised by the earnestness in his voice.

"I know you must have questions," He continued. "And I will gladly answer them. But right now, we need to move."

"Why would I go anywhere with you?" Bonnie asked. She was immediately on her guard.

"Because I mean you no harm. I went after those men because they were holding you hostage. But I would never hurt you. I'm here to help you."

Seeing her hesitation, he moved towards her. Bonnie instinctively recoiled, pressing herself against the head board to maintain some distance between them.

Raising his hands to show he meant no harm, the stranger crouched down next to the bed so that they were level.

Very slowly, he dropped a small revolver on the bed. Bonnie's eyes widened.

"Do you know how to use one of these?" He asked gesturing to the gun.

She nodded. Matt had taken her out on the shooting range a few times. When his dad had still been in the picture, he and Matt used to go hunting.

"Good. Bonnie you're feeling confused and uncertain about all this. That's understandable. I know you have no reason to believe anything I've said. But I really need you to come with me. Keep that with you," He nodded towards the gun, "and the minute you don't trust me, you shoot me. Alright?"

Still watching him warily, Bonnie agreed. Whatever her reservations, she knew she didn't have much choice in this situation. She had no idea where she was, no money to speak of, and she was missing her cell phone. As much as she didn't like it, this stranger was her best shot.

That was if he didn't chop her up and leave her in pieces on the highway first.

But then why would he give her a loaded gun to defend herself against him? The energy surrounding him was strong and powerful. But Bonnie didn't detect any intent to kill directed towards her. Still, she felt a little better for having the gun now in her hand.

Getting off the bed, she was a little unsteady on her feet. This didn't go unnoticed by her rescuer.

"Are you alright to walk?"

"I'm fine," She dismissed his concern. "I'm tougher than I look," She added, with a stubborn tilt to her chin.

"I do not doubt it," And Bonnie could have sworn she saw a spark of amusement in his blue-green eyes before he turned away, leaving her to follow him out into the night.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

She was standing at the edge of a vast field.

Trails of blood, like tiny rivers, made a path across scorched earth to the funeral pyres that were burning. The smoke morphed into dark, faceless shapes, moaning and weeping as they reached out to him with ghostly fingers. Their pitiful wailing grew louder as they drew near, crying out in lamentation.

"_Save us! Save us, we beg you!"_

She backed away from them. The light shone behind her, but she could not turn. She was powerless against the howling voices of the dead and the darkness that closed in around her...

Bonnie jolted awake!

She was breathing hard after her dream, her heart pounding. The young witch squeezed her eyes tightly shut until all she could see beneath her lids was white, willing the images from her nightmare to disappear.

She was taking slow, measured breaths, trying to calm herself, when the driver's side door opened and her saviour slid back into his seat. That was when Bonnie realised that it was light out and they were parked at a gas station.

"Breakfast," He handed her a brown paper bag. Coffee and a blueberry muffin, Bonnie mused.

"It's not much but..."

She shook her head.

"Thank you," She said sincerely. A glance at the clock on the dashboard told her it was eight in the morning. When she met his gaze, he was looking at her strangely.

"Are you alright? You seem a little flustered."

A flash of images from her dream assaulted her once more, but she pushed them back. She had enough to worry about, without having to deal with her nightmares _right this minute_. It would keep for another day.

"I'm fine," She said quickly, "just starving," Bonnie made a show of taking a large bite of the muffin, and then sipped her coffee leisurely so he wouldn't press her. "Where are we anyway?"

He arched an eyebrow at this, but if he was suspicious about her deflection tactics then he didn't let on.

"Somewhere off the Interstate, just past Charlottesville. It's another three hours till we get to Mystic Falls," He told her.

Bonnie's eyes widened.

"Did you drive straight through?"

He nodded. "You fell asleep about twenty minutes on the road. You were knackered, love. Hardly surprising considering what the witch put you through."

The young witch frowned thoughtfully as she sipped her coffee.

"What was that anyway?" She wondered, remembering her continual efforts to find the exit out of Narnia.

"An illusionary technique," He explained. "Very complicated, very advanced magic. You control the flow of energy in your victim's cerebral nervous system to mess with the senses. The body follows the brain's lead. So you can create false images and cause severe physical trauma because the brain thinks its experiencing pain. The illusionary technique is very powerful. And often a very effective method for torture and interrogation," He smirked slightly at that. "But only a handful of witches are strong enough and skilled enough to pull it off. The witch that had you hostage used it to trap you in a mental prison."

Bonnie snorted. "She didn't do a very good job. I knew it wasn't real. If it had worked correctly, I'm guessing I shouldn't have been able to tell."

"Like I said, it's advanced magic and it takes an extraordinarily high level of magic control that very few witches ever master."

"How did you break me out of it?"

"Vastra's concentration was split between keeping you locked in your head, and fighting me off. A stronger sorceress may have been able to put me under the technique as well _while_ we duelled."

"So the victim isn't always necessarily unconscious?"

"Not at all. It can be very useful in a battle, because you can trick your opponent into making the wrong move."

Bonnie put the coffee down.

"You know for a _werewolf_, you sure do know a lot about magic." She couldn't help but smile at his surprised expression. "I could sense in your energy signature that you're something...not exactly human. But you have a pulse and you're walking out in the sun without a daylight ring so that rules out vampire. However the gun you gave me is loaded with silver bullets. Werewolf looks like a pretty safe bet. Am I wrong?"

He shook his head, admittedly impressed by her powers of deduction.

"You're a smart woman Miss Bennett."

"Obviously not that smart, since I'm driving around Virginia with a strange werewolf; whose _name I don't even know_," She said pointedly.

He smirked.

"It's Niklaus. But you can call me Klaus."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They were back on the road shortly after that conversation. Bonnie used his, _Klaus's, _cell phone to call her Grams and let her know that she was alright. Sheila was obviously worried and wouldn't be happy until she saw her granddaughter for herself. But Bonnie promised she would explain everything as soon as she was home.

She and Klaus had then settled into a relatively comfortable silence. Bonnie sipped her coffee and nibbled on her muffin. But she couldn't help stealing glances at the handsome werewolf.

This whole situation was so very strange. And in the past week and a half of dealing with some very strange things, that was saying something.

"Alright, out with it," Klaus broke the silence. "You look like you're about to burst. Obviously, you have questions. So ask."

Bonnie worried her bottom lip between her teeth. She had not expected him to be quite so blunt.

"How did you find me?" She said eventually.

"I found out from an old _acquaintance _that you were in trouble."

"Who?" Bonnie wondered who could possibly know that. And how.

She had only been taken last night, and the only people she had been with were Damon and Matt. Damon hadn't been around when they were attacked, and Matt certainly wouldn't have any connection to Klaus. So how did someone know she was in trouble?

"Just a contact. Someone who trades in information, you might say. Anyway, they told me about the warlock who was planning to come after you."

"Not Vastra and the other two?"

"I'm afraid they were just the foot soldiers, love. Not the commander general."

"But you know who _he_ is?"

"I have a name. _Tristan du Bois_. He's powerful and dangerous, but not much else is known about him. The man knows how to blend in. But all the witches in his employ seem to bear the same peculiar mark."

That got Bonnie's attention.

"A thin yellow coil inside a black spiral?" She hedged.

"You've seen it before," It wasn't a question. Klaus narrowed his eyes at her continued silence. "Bonnie?"

She waved him off. "You were still answering my question," She argued, ignoring Klaus's small – there was no other word for it – _growl _of irritation. "So this _mysterious _contact of yours told you a warlock was targeting me. That still doesn't explain how you knew where to find me."

"Smart and suspicious," He chuckled slightly.

"I _am _smart," Bonnie retorted. "So don't patronise me. Because people have died and now you tell me I've got a target on my back. So I'm not happy."

Klaus looked appropriately chastised.

"I apologise, Bonnie. Believe me, it is not my intention to be patronising. And I did agree to answer your questions. But would it be alright if you answered some things for me, afterwards?"

"I suppose that's fair."

"Thank you. Now, you were asking how I managed to find you?" At her nod, he continued. "It wasn't easy. I asked an old friend to do a summoning spell. Obviously, it wouldn't work since you were being held captive. But because she's also a Seer, my friend was able to summon a pretty accurate _vision_ of where you were being held, even though we couldn't physically summon you."

Bonnie nodded in acceptance of this explanation. She knew from her studies with Grams that some witches, who had the gift of foresight, could use a spell - like the summoning spell - in this way.

"I've never known a werewolf to be quite so friendly with witches before," She noted.

"As a matter of fact, my mother was a witch," Klaus told her. His expression clouded for a moment, and as he watched the road ahead, he seemed to stare at things only he could see. "But that is a story for another time," He said finally. "Suffice to say, you may find yourself losing those assumptions, about the simple nature of things supernatural. I know I did."

Bonnie looked at him curiously then. Klaus spoke with an odd sort of melancholy, the recollection of his revelations clearly bittersweet.

"Though for all that, I am surprised by how evenly you've taken the revelation, of my true nature as a werewolf. So, Miss Bennett. Have I passed?"

The young witch couldn't help the smile that tilted her lips.

"Just about. You haven't given me any reason not to believe you."

"Good. Then you would be comfortable telling me what you know about this mark of du Bois's?"

Bonnie nodded and sighed loudly.

"It started with Sheriff Forbes approaching a..." She hesitated, not sure how to categorise her relation to Damon, "...a sort of friend of mine about a supernatural incident. Last week, a member of the Town Council, Philip Ward, well apparently his daughter had been kidnapped by some vampire. Cut a long story short, we checked it out, tracked the vampire down. But it turned out the whole thing was a trap. The girl and the vamp were in on it, and we got ambushed by four warlocks for our trouble."

"And they all had that same _tattoo_," Klaus surmised.

"Afterwards, when it was all over, Sheriff Forbes confronted Mr. Ward. But he had no recollection of ever going to her; he didn't recall any of it! And when she asked to see the picture of his daughter again, it was a different girl."

"Tristan set you up."

"No kidding! What I want to know is why? That's the other thing. Last weekend, those four warlocks could have easily killed me. But they didn't. It was like they were toying with me."

"Not toying," Klaus said thoughtfully, his eyes on the road. "Tristan was testing you. That's why his first team of flying monkeys didn't kill you. They were studying you; learning the strengths and weaknesses of your magic. Then he sent the other witch to capture you."

"That's a lot of trouble to go to, just to kill me." Bonnie vaguely realised she should have been more disturbed by the idea of someone wanting her dead. But after the past year, she was used to people being out for her blood, sometimes literally. It was sad, but true.

"But that's just it, Bonnie. I don't think he means to kill you."

A chill ran down Bonnie's spine at those words. If it wasn't her death he wanted, then what? He meant to turn her into one of his drones? Brand her with his mark as though she were his property and force her into bondage? That would be worse than death!

Klaus must have sensed her distress.

"Bonnie, listen to me. We are going to get to the bottom of this. I promise you. With my life or death, I _will_ protect you."

Bonnie looked at Klaus then, _really_ looked at him.

He was a werewolf. She had known him only a few short hours. Trusted him when he told her to. And now he was promising to defend her from some rogue wizard. It was a situation she had never expected to be in, couldn't have even imagined. But the strangest part was that she believed him. She had nothing to go on but the last eight hours, most of which she'd been passed out in the front seat. But intuitively, she knew that he would do just what he said.

"Why?" She blurted out and then blushed when she realised she had spoken out loud. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to sound ungrateful. It's just...why do you want to help me? You don't even know me," A sudden thought occurred to Bonnie then. "Or do you?" Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Have we met before?"

"Always so suspicious," Klaus chuckled. "You inherited that trait from your mother."

Bonnie gasped. Her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat.

"You knew my mother?"

For a moment Klaus turned to look at her; meeting her gaze squarely before he replied.

"I knew your mother very well."

**TBC**

* * *

**AN 2: **So the plot thickens! I'm not too sure how I did with this chapter. It's predominantly two characters in a car, dialogue heavy, and I'm still getting used to writing Klaus. His back story, which you'll learn more about later, will be slightly different than it is on the actual show.

He's a werewolf in this story, not a hybrid. This too will be explained at a later stage. I wanted to have a strong werewolf character because they tend to be treated as inferior on TVD. And you got your first glimpse, kind of, of my original character, Tristan.

Finally, the illusionary technique described in this chapter is actually the Genjutsu technique used in the Naruto manga. I'll be drawing on ninja techniques used in the Naruto manga for Bonnie's magic. **No copyright intended.** When it comes to that stuff, **Masashi Kishimoto** is just way better at coming up with cool abilities!

As always, thanks for reading! Feedback is most welcome.


	3. What's Past is Prologue

**Author's note: Thanks so much everyone for your continued support! **

**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

**3**

**WHAT'S PAST IS PROLOGUE**

Bonnie was not even aware when they reached Mystic Falls.

If she had been, she might have questioned how Klaus seemed to know exactly in which house she lived, and the roads to take. But she was too preoccupied going over the things he had just told her.

Abby Bennett had died when Bonnie was just a baby and she had never known her father. Grams didn't speak much about her parents, and Bonnie never pressed for more. She figured it was too painful for Sheila to talk about the daughter she had lost.

She knew very little about her mother, but still, Bonnie was surprised to learn that Abby had been on friendly terms with a vampire and a werewolf...

"_It was many years ago," Klaus spoke wistfully. "Abby was living in New Orleans at the time, the very heart of wiccan culture and learning. She was the brightest witch of her age, - much like you, Bonnie - smart and inquisitive. Abby asked more questions than the Spanish Inquisition. Sound familiar?" Klaus looked at her pointedly and Bonnie smiled. _

"_And she was very suspicious of us," the werewolf continued._

"_Us?"_

"_My half-brother, Elijah, and I. He was actually the one who first went to Abby, trying to petition her help."_

"_What did he want her to do?"_

_Klaus swallowed hard and Bonnie couldn't help but notice the way his hands tightened on the steering wheel. Choking down his anger, he forced his voice to be detached and cool when he spoke._

"_I told you before that my mother was a witch," He began. "Esther was incredibly powerful. But she was also arrogant and selfish. She had an affair with a werewolf while she was still married to Elijah's father, and I was the result. Initially, she lied to both of us and tried to pass me off as my stepfather's natural son. But secrets like that seldom stay hidden." A vein began to throb in Klaus's neck and his eyes darkened dangerously._

"_My mother cursed me," He spat angrily. "When my stepfather learned the truth, she was so desperate to placate him, to ease her guilt, she tried to erase my lycanthrope genes."_

_The expression on Klaus's face was murderous. Bonnie had never felt such deep-seated revulsion, such undiluted __**hate**__. It was rolling off of Klaus in waves. She actually flinched and it wasn't even directed towards her._

"_Of course, the bitch over-estimated her abilities," Klaus continued darkly. "She was messing with natural laws beyond her comprehension. And she failed. Instead of erasing the genes, she only suppressed them, leaving me crippled. When a werewolf is not allowed to complete the transformation, it's like a fever than won't break. It just climbs higher and higher. Except, it's your soul, not your body, that burns. Can you imagine feeling every instinct, every urge, and being unable to relieve it? Like an itch you can't scratch, or the agony of a phantom limb that's pain is just as real, just as tangible as if it were in the flesh? It drove me to madness."_

_Bonnie remained silent, her jade eyes wide as she listened to Klaus's tale. She made a move as if she would touch him; just a small gesture of comfort. But at the look Klaus gave her, she hastily withdrew. _

"_I don't want you pitying me, Bonnie," He said, his voice hard._

"_I'm not," She replied quickly._

"_Good. Because that's not the reason I am telling you all this. I'm telling you because I want you to understand the role Abby played in my life. That is all."_

_She nodded in acquiescence and waited for Klaus to continue._

"_Even after my mother performed her little binding spell, it was clear my stepfather would never accept me. They cast me off and I ceased to be their son. Only my older half-brother stood by me. Elijah never stopped trying to help me, even when I was at my worst. It didn't matter how many times I pushed him away, how many times I tried to kill him in each lifetime. He didn't care that I had turned into a monster. And then one day, he told me that he thought he had found a witch he believed could undo Esther's binding curse."_

"_My mother," Bonnie surmised._

"_That's right. Of course, like any witch, she was taught to consider vampires and werewolves with equal distrust. And she was not easily convinced otherwise," Klaus smirked at the memory of the stubborn witch._

"_So what changed?"_

"_Elijah," Klaus smiled wistfully. "He was noble and charming as a human, even more so as a vampire."_

"_He didn't...seduce her?" Bonnie was suddenly alarmed. Remembering what happened to Caroline, the young witch knew that seduction and manipulation were part and parcel of a vampire's arsenal when they wanted something._

"_Of course not," Klaus answered immediately, yet something flickered in his expression._

"_Klaus..."_

"_I assure you, Bonnie. My brother only ever behaved honourably with Abigail. Besides, she would have set him on fire if he tried anything."_

_**Something else we have in common,**__ Bonnie thought wryly. Crepes flambé with a touch of vampire was her favourite threat to use with Damon. _

"_Some crazed witch in the French quarter, got the clever idea to unleash an ancient, soul-devouring god," Klaus was speaking again. "We had no choice but to work together if we wanted to survive. And well, there are some things you can't share without ending up friends. I suppose battling a parasitic, soul-sucking god is one of them."_

"_My mother fought that thing?"_

"_With everything she had. After that, she began to see that Elijah's intentions were not all evil. And she gave me the same chance. Even though I violently professed not to want it."_

"_She removed Esther's binding curse," Bonnie said smiling softly. Her heart swelled with pride thinking of the things her mother had accomplished._

"_She did. But it was more than that. There are few people I love; even fewer whom I think well of. Abby and Elijah saved my life. She was a dear friend to me. But I failed to protect her. You are all that is left of her now. And I don't intend to make the same mistake twice." _

"End of the line, love." Klaus was opening her door for her before Bonnie even realised he was out of the car. They were parked in Sheila's driveway.

"How did you know where I live?" She looked at him curiously.

Klaus shrugged.

"Good instincts," He said dismissively. "So you've been awfully quiet. I know I gave you a lot to think about."

Bonnie worried her lower lip between her teeth.

"Did you really mean what you said? About helping me?"

"Every word."

"Thank you, Klaus. For telling me about my mother and...everything else. I guess I'll see you when I see you?"

The werewolf nodded.

"I intend to stay in Mystic Falls for a while. Keep an eye on you until we find out more about this warlock. And there's some unfinished business I need to attend to."

The young witch frowned. This was the first time he mentioned that.

"What bus-"

"Bonnie!"

Sheila's voice cut across the lawn sharply.

"Grams!" She smiled at the sight of her grandmother standing on the front porch. The older witch, however, looked anything but pleased. Her gaze was fixed on Klaus, her expression tense. Slowly, Sheila made her way down the front steps, turning her attention to her granddaughter.

"Are you alright, baby," She said gently. Sheila took Bonnie's hands into her own. Her eyes rapidly scanned over her granddaughter, searching for any sign that she was hurt.

"I'm fine, Grams," She smiled. "I had help."

The two Bennett women turned to face Klaus, who had been silently watching their exchange.

"Grams, this is-"

"I know who he is," Sheila said, her voice suddenly cold. "Thank you for returning my granddaughter to me safely, _Niklaus_."

Klaus frowned. She may have said the words, but Sheila's thanks sounded an awful lot like a dismissal and the werewolf didn't appreciate it. He wanted to argue, but he caught Bonnie glancing curiously between him and her grandmother.

"Always a pleasure, Sheila," He said instead, biting back the retort on the tip of his tongue. But only just.

Neither of the trio moved, as though they were in some odd Mexican stand-off. It certainly felt that way to Bonnie. The tension between Klaus and her grandmother was palpable, and she half wondered who would draw first.

Sheila wound up breaking the strange stalemate.

"Bonnie, I'd like you to go inside please," She said calmly.

"Grams –"

"You should probably call your friends. Matt and Caroline have been asking about you. I'm sure they'd like to know you're alright."

"I guess," Still, Bonnie hesitated. "Grams, is everything alright?" She asked warily.

"Everything's just fine, baby," Sheila gave her granddaughter's hand a reassuring squeeze. "Go on inside. I'll be there in a minute."

Bonnie finally relented, giving Klaus a small smile before she headed into the house. As soon as she was safely inside, Sheila started.

"What did you think you were doing with my granddaughter, Klaus?"

He shook his head.

"I see some things never change," He chuckled mirthlessly. "The Bennett pride rears its head again. That didn't take long."

"You've got some nerve. After everything that happened..."

The werewolf immediately sobered.

"You act as though I want to hurt Bonnie. I know you've never liked me Sheila, but the one thing we've always shared is our desire to protect our blood."

"Exactly. And the further away she is from you and your family, the better off she'll be!"

Klaus's jaw hardened. The cupid's bow of his lips set in a grim line, like the mouth of an executioner or saint.

"That may have been true before," He replied, "But things have changed."

Sheila's eyes narrowed dangerously, and Klaus idly thought that glare must be hereditary. He'd received it from three generations of Bennett women now.

XXX

Bonnie had to hold the phone away from her ear as Caroline's shrieks echoed down the line.

"_Oh My GOD! Bonnie?! Is that you?"_

"It's me, Care, really."

"_Oh my God! How are you? Where are you? Oh it's so good to hear your voice. How are you? Are you okay? What happened, Bonnie?" _

Bonnie smiled to herself at the effusive blonde's rambling.

"_Maybe she'd have an answer for you, Blondie, if you actually shut up long enough to let her talk."_

She frowned at the familiar voice arguing in the background.

"_Go blow a goat, Damon!"_ Caroline snapped back, confirming Bonnie's suspicions.

"_Sorry, your dad's not my type." _

On the other end of the line, Caroline made an indignant noise and then there was the sound of some sort of scuffle and a lot of expletives.

"Care, are you still there?"

"_Bonnie? It's Stefan,"_ the younger Salvatore's dulcet tones came on the line. _"Caroline's a little...uh...busy."_

Bonnie could hear Caroline telling off the other vampire, _"You are such a dick!"_

"_Never mind them right now,"_ Stefan sounded weary and Bonnie could just picture the long suffering expression on his face._ "Are you alright? Do you need us to come get you?" _

"No, no. I'm fine. Actually, I'm home. I just got back. I don't have my phone anymore, so I'm calling from Grams' cell. That's why Caroline didn't recognise the number."

"_You're home? Matt said the two of you were attacked. He woke up and you were gone."_

Bonnie sighed.

"Yeah, it's kind of a long story. But I just wanted to let you guys know I'm okay; a little tired, after everything. But..."

"_I can imagine. Well I'm glad you're safe Bonnie. You had us worried there for a minute. Don't worry about filling us in. Just get some rest and take care of yourself, ok?" _He said kindly.

"Thanks Stefan."

The vampire didn't say anything for a minute then,

"_Oh, Caroline wants me to tell you that Tyler's having one of his keg parties in Mystic Woods tonight. If you're up for it, of course."_

"_Stefan, she was just kidnapped,"_ that was Elena. _"She's hardly going to be in the mood to..."_

"No, that actually sounds like a plan," Bonnie drew the vampire's attention back to her. "Tell Elena to stop being such a worry wart," She could hear Stefan chuckle slightly. "I'm planning on sleeping the rest of today anyway, so I'll be fine to go out tonight. And then I can tell you guys what happened."

Bonnie said her goodbyes and hung up, but not before she heard Caroline's shriek of delight as Stefan relayed her answer and Damon's sardonic voice murmur in response,

"_Next time, Elena, leave your pets at home."_

She rolled her eyes at their antics and then realised that between Matt and then Caroline, she'd been on the phone for ten minutes and Grams was still outside.

Peering through the front curtains, Bonnie spotted Sheila and Klaus in the middle of a very intense conversation. She frowned. Her grandmother had been eager to get rid of her earlier, and despite thanking him, Sheila had been nothing but hostile towards Klaus. Curious, Bonnie slipped out and made her way as quietly as possible to the front garden, close to where they were still standing in the driveway. Not wanting to be seen, she was careful to stay hidden behind the shrubbery so she could eavesdrop on the conversation.

"Does he know?" Sheila asked.

"I can't be sure. She says she didn't tell him. But those words don't mean much coming from her mouth," Klaus ran a hand over his face, his expression grim. "Look, let me worry about Mikael. You have to talk to Bonnie. She needs to know."

"I've looked after my granddaughter for the past eighteen years. I think I know best what _she needs_."

Klaus released an exasperated breath. He had forgotten how stubborn Sheila could be.

"Bonnie is an intelligent girl. Do you think she's not going to notice that she's _different_? That she doesn't suspect something already?"

"And of course you had _nothing_ to do with _**that**_," Sheila snapped.

Klaus growled. He wasn't a patient man, and the urge to choke the older Bennett witch until she saw things his way was very tempting. He clenched his fists. Sheila didn't even blink.

"I told Bonnie about my friendship with Abby," He gritted out. "I didn't say anything to her about her father."

A flicker of movement near the front porch seemed to catch Klaus's attention then, but when he looked up no one was there.

_Stealthy little witch_, he thought wryly, _but no match for the keen senses of a werewolf_.

He stepped in closer towards Sheila and lowered his voice.

"I think it's best if we end this conversation; we're in danger of being overheard," He glanced discreetly back towards the house and Sheila's eyes widened in understanding.

"I will help Bonnie in any way I can," He said, stepping back once more. "But she should know the truth. Tell her Sheila. Before she finds out some other way."

XXX

She was lying on her bed.

Her Grimoire rested on her stomach as she concentrated on levitating a few books and some items from her dressing table.

She had floated the objects away and towards her, up and down, even managed to turn the pages of the books, and open and close the caps on the bottles of nail polish. Now she was attempting to keep the objects suspended in the air.

After ten minutes, the items dropped unceremoniously to the ground and Bonnie narrowly escaped being whacked on the nose by her copy of _Bleak House_.

That was better than her previous attempt, but nowhere near her usual power. Typically, Bonnie could leave objects suspended in mid-air indefinitely. But Klaus had warned her that the illusionary juju she'd been under would leave her feeling drained and tired for a day or two.

She was obviously still feeling its effects. However, that wasn't the only thing messing with her ability to concentrate. Bonnie had been replaying the conversation between Klaus and Grams in her head.

When Sheila came into the house, she had been quiet and evasive. Any time Bonnie tried to bring up Klaus and the conversation she had overheard, Sheila clammed up, eventually telling Bonnie that maybe they ought to have a little less chatter at the dinner table.

Bonnie's mood had promptly soured. Sheila had never spoken to her so curtly before and the rest of lunch had been a quiet, tense affair. She had excused herself, saying she wanted to take a nap before she went out tonight. That had caught Sheila's attention.

"_Bonnie, I actually don't want you going out tonight."_

"_But I already told Stefan and everyone I would be there."_

"_I'm sure they'll understand. Please Bonnie. I've been out of my mind with worry since Matt told me you'd been taken. I just want one night where I know you're safe at home," Sheila explained._

_Bonnie had softened at this. However, she really wanted to see her friends so she tried for a compromise._

"_What if I just went for half an hour? I just want to see that Matt's okay and say a quick hello to Caroline, she's-"_

"_Bonnie, I said no! Matt is perfectly fine and I'm sure Caroline will survive one night without you. You're not going out tonight, and that's an end to it."_

Bonnie rolled over on her side, frowning. She knew Sheila was likely still upset over her near-successful kidnapping. But she was being unusually short with Bonnie and even more protective than usual.

Klaus's words echoed in her head.

"_I didn't tell her anything about her father."_

"_She should know the truth."_

What was Grams hiding from her? She had told her that Abby never revealed who Bonnie's father was. That was obviously a lie.

What else was she being lied to about? And if Grams knew who her father was, why keep it from her? And what did Klaus have to do with any of it? He and Sheila had apparently made some reluctant pact years ago to protect Bonnie. But protect her from what?

There were too many questions and not enough answers.

She pressed her fingertips against her closed eyes, feeling a dull throb at the back of her head; the beginnings of a headache.

_Rap! Rap!_

Bonnie startled at the knock on her window. She scrambled to the edge of her mattress, forgetting she was already there, and yelped as she promptly fell off the bed.

She hurried over and flung her curtains open.

"Matt!" He was sitting on the tree branch near her window.

"You okay there, Bon?"

"I uh...I fell off the bed," She mumbled, embarrassedly. Matt burst out laughing.

"It's not funny!"

"It's hilarious! You'll face off with vampires without a second thought, but a knock on your window sends you falling on your butt in fright! Only you, Bon," He continued chuckling.

"You didn't scare me," She argued, "I was surprised. And keep your voice down, my Grams will hear!" Even as she pretended to chastise him, Bonnie couldn't help the corner of her lips from quirking up at the picture she must have made. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I was elected to come find you, since Caroline's been nagging about where you are."

Bonnie, frowned recalling the argument with her Grams.

"I'm actually grounded for the night," She said. "Grams doesn't want me leaving the house."

"Yeah, I kind of figured. I knocked at the front door first and she wasn't exactly pleased to see me. Told me you were sleeping. This is why I'm currently re-enacting the balcony scene from Romeo &amp; Juliet – minus the balcony." Matt shifted uncomfortably on his perch.

Bonnie smiled at his quip.

"Sorry about that. She's been acting really strange since I got back."

"You were kidnapped, Bonnie. I don't think you can blame her for being a little anxious."

"It's more than that though."

"Well, you can tell me all about it on the way," He said.

"What?"

"This is a rescue mission, Bon. Climb out of your tower princess and your knight's chariot awaits you."

"I thought you were Romeo?" Bonnie retorted wryly.

"_Potatoe, potato,_ let's go Bon."

"Matt, I can't. Grams..."

He arched an eyebrow at her knowingly.

"We both know, on the list of things you've done without your Grams' permission, this is pretty minor."

She couldn't argue with that. Besides, Sheila had grounded her tonight for seemingly no reason. And she'd refused to talk to her about anything. Well, Bonnie could have secrets too then. Feeling a sudden desire for rebellion, she nodded, her mind made up.

"Alright, I'll come," Matt smiled at her response. "Just let me grab my shoes."

XXX

It was the screams that woke her.

Vastra bolted out of bed at the commotion she could hear outside her doors. She wasn't surprised to see the imposing figure in her living room, eyes shining in the gloom as he stood over the body of her housekeeper. The woman's heart was still beating but she was unconscious. He must be feeling generous this evening.

"So this is what's become of the great Vastra," the warlock sneered. "I find her cowering in this hick town, when she should have met me at the border."

"Tristan please..."

"Where is the Bennett witch?" He was straight to the point.

"I...I lost her," Even in the dark she couldn't meet his gaze.

Tristan smiled cheerlessly.  
"You lost her," He repeated, his voice dangerously low. "You, a high priestess of the old order, were defeated by...how did you describe her? Oh yes, 'a witch who's practically still teething, her powers are in their infancy'. And you expect to be worthy of my seal. How the mighty have fallen."

At that insult, the witch seemed to regain some of her courage.

"I would have had her, if you hadn't sent me in blindly. I didn't expect the werewolf to come for her," She seethed.

That seemed to pique Tristan's interest.

"Then the rumours are true. His presence confirms it."

He moved to sit in the large armchair. A quick glance at the empty fireplace and a moment later, a glorious blaze filled the hearth.

"Then...you are not angry with me?" Vastra hedged.

"Oh I'm furious. But we can't chat _after _I've killed you," He spoke nonchalantly and the witch blanched.

"I can still be of use to you," She said urgently. "I wish only to please you. I would do anything."

Tristan cocked his head, like a hawk eyeing his prey. Then a slow smile spread across his face.

"You are quite beautiful when you beg. But it is unnecessary. Just this once, I am willing to admit that perhaps I acted too hastily in going after the Bennett girl."

Vastra released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. With the danger seemingly over, she felt confident enough to approach him. The only light in the room came from the fire; casting his handsome features in silhouette: the firm line of his jaw and the aristocratic arch of his nose.

"So what do you plan to do next?" She said.

"I think it's time, I met Miss Bennett in person."

"You plan to go to Mystic Falls?"

"Tomorrow," Tristan confirmed.

"I'll be ready to leave at first light then."

"Oh my beautiful idiot," His gaze was almost sympathetic. ""You will not see tomorrow."

"What are you talking about?" She watched nervously as he stalked towards her like a panther.

"I can forgive your failure to capture the Bennett witch," He began. "But I can't forgive your cowardice – it's unbecoming of a high priestess."

_Buthed gwared, hrag pob ailed, hrag pob evnis boyd un thilis._

"Tristan, stop!"

"Have we not always been honest with each other?"

_Buthed gwared, hrag pob ailed, hrag pob evnis boyd un thilis._

"Please!" She screamed in agony as his magic began to take hold.

"I always told you, you would know when I was threatening you..."

"Don't!"

_Buthed gwared, hrag pob ailed, hrag pob evnis boyd un thilis._

"...well, now you know."

He was standing right in front of her now.

Vastra was helpless against him. Her mouth froze in a silent scream as Tristan plunged his dagger into her heart and she crumpled to the ground, his limpid grey eyes the last thing she saw.

Tristan stepped over the witch, his damp coat trailing across her corpse carelessly. The fire in the hearth had begun to do its job as he felt the chill begin to lift from his bones. Rummaging through the liquor cabinet, he helped himself to the snifter of brandy. The first glass, he poured out; a libation for the dead witch. The second, he raised in a toast.

"Till tomorrow then, Bonnie Bennett," He swallowed the alcohol, relishing the slight burn, "The battle for your soul is about to begin."

XXX

Bonnie stared at the faces watching her in rapt silence as she finished her tale. Elena wore her perpetual look of woe; Matt gave her a sympathetic smile; Stefan was brooding; Jeremy looked bewildered, and Damon promptly knocked back another bottle of beer.

"So let me get this straight," Caroline, in typical fashion, was the first to find her voice. "This Tristan guy is trying to recruit you or something, which includes giving you a personalized tattoo. He's also the same guy who sent a bunch of warlocks after you and Damon during your mysterious road trip, which, by the way, you still haven't given us the details of, and since when do you and Damon go all _Bonnie &amp; Clyde_?"

"It's not important," Bonnie said dismissively.

"Ouch, Bon-bon," Damon laid a hand over his heart mockingly, "that hurts."

"Can it, bloodsucker."

"_Anyway_," Caroline interjected, "now some _werewolf_ has decided to be your personal guardian angel. And he's gonna protect you from this Tristan guy."

"So he _claims_," Damon murmured snidely.

Bonnie's eyes snapped to the vampire.

"What have you got against werewolves?" She demanded.

"You mean, aside from the _minor thing_ that those overgrown dogs, just so happen to be the one thing in the world that can kill me? Nothing," Damon took another drag on his beer, wishing it was bourbon. "I just find it funny that, _Judgey_ here, after spending only _a couple of hours_ with White Fang; you're so willing to trust him."

In truth, he didn't find it funny.

At all.

Damon was pissed. For months, he had been trying to win Bonnie over. He had never spent so much effort on a woman he _wasn't_ trying to sleep with before.

After their little expedition last weekend, he thought they had turned a corner. But no, for some reason, she seemed to hate him even more than before; taking his head off over every little thing.

But the werewolf just shows up, saves her from Lord Voldemort's minions, and he's suddenly her new best friend.

It was like a slap in the face. And he couldn't help but be reminded of all those moments he'd been passed over, told he was _unworthy_, and been made to feel second-best.

"Klaus hasn't given me a reason not to trust him," She retorted.

"Because he told you some sob story about being besties with your mum, back in the day?"

The minute the words left his mouth, Damon knew it was a mistake. Bonnie's eyes turned the most brilliant shade of emerald. She could feel her ire rising, the events of the last few hours finally taking its toll and her turbulent emotions began to spill over. She needed an outlet. And picking a fight with Damon was as good as it would get.

"_No_. I trust him, because he actually lives up to his word," She spat. "Unlike _some people_, _who pretend _they want to protect me, and then try to rip my throat out!"

"Guys-" Stefan tried to intervene.

"Are you still singing that same old song?"

"Bonnie, it _was_ a year ago," Elena spoke up now. "Damon was different then. And he has been _trying_."

"Yeah, trying to get into your pants," Bonnie said bluntly. "But whatever," She ignored Elena's shocked gasp. "You would take his side."

Damon smirked.

"Jealous, witchy?"

"Of what exactly? I happen to like men _with a backbone_," Bonnie emphasized, "not a pathetic _push-over_ who let's himself get taken for a ride." She let her eyes crawl over his face, making a point to curl her lip in disgust and convey how repellent she found him.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Damon's eyes were doing their crazy widening thing and there was a dangerous edge to his voice.

Bonnie suddenly felt tired. As quickly as it had come, the fight went out of her. And she just didn't care anymore.

"Forget it," She shrugged, getting to her feet. Bonnie turned her back on Damon and addressed the rest of the group. "I'm gonna take a walk, clear my head." Without waiting for a response, the young witch stepped out of their little circle and headed into the woods.

An awkward silence settled on the rest of the group.

"Well, that was interesting," Caroline said finally. She spared a glance at the elder Salvatore. The vampire looked ready to throttle someone.

"Damon..." The words died on Stefan's lips as his brother suddenly shot up and took off into the woods after the witch. Stefan sighed.

"Is it a good idea for them to be alone?" Elena wondered; her doe eyes wide. "Maybe we should go after them."

Stefan arched an eyebrow at his former girlfriend.

"What exactly are you worried about happening?"

The pretty brunette blushed.

"I wasn't...I didn't mean..."

Stefan gave her a dismissive wave. "Don't bother," He shrugged and then asked Matt if he was up for a game of catch. As the two boys wandered off, Caroline decided to go find Tyler. She hadn't seen her boyfriend in the past half hour. This left the two Gilbert siblings to sit awkwardly on their own.

**TBC**

* * *

**AN 2: **Phew! This was a monster of a chapter. Lots of Klaus exposition, Tristan's first appearance, the MF gang, and a Bamon argument.

Speaking of which, I hope Bonnie and Damon's fight wasn't too over the top. The characters just took on a life of their own and I ran with it.

Finally, Tristan's chant. I have no idea what it actually means. I lifted it from a wiki page on the Merlin series. Also, Klaus's line about "some things you can't share without ending up friends", is me borrowing J.K. Rowling's line from _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_. No copyright infringement intended.

**Up next chapter:** Bonnie's first big revelation, a twisted family reunion of sorts, and some brawling vampires. Hope I can do it justice! Thanks for reading. Review if you feel like it ;).


	4. Bad Blood

**Author's Note: **Thank you, lovely reviewers, for taking the time to comment. I really enjoy getting to hear what you think about the story. Your encouraging words definitely help keep me motivated. To all my readers, thank you so much for your continued interest, patience and support. Happy 2015 everyone!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

**4**

**BAD BLOOD**

Bonnie wondered, not for the first time, how she managed to get herself into these situations. _The situation_ being, she was currently pinned against a tree by an irate vampire.

"What the hell are you doing?!" She demanded.

Damon's eyes were wild and she was sure his grip was going to leave bruises.

"You don't get to avoid me this time, Judgey," He spat.

"Let go of me, Damon."

"What's the matter," He leaned in slightly, his voice low and dangerous in her ear. "You were so eager to cast aspersions on my manliness before. It's only fair I get the chance to prove otherwise," He leered at her.

The witch scoffed and tried to ignore the way she could feel the hard planes of his chest pressing against her. Damon would crowd your space as a way of making the world that was large seem miniature. Unfortunately for him, Bonnie's courage always rose with every attempt to intimidate her.

"You think this little show is going to impress me?" She retorted. "All the nauseating evidence still points to the fact you are completely castrated."

To drive the point home, Bonnie brought her knee up sharply. Damon shifted just in time, thanks to his vampire reflexes, and she ended up hitting his thigh instead of her intended target.

The vampire practically shot daggers at her with his gaze.

"You should know better than to think you're stronger than me," He spoke through his teeth. "I wouldn't try that again."

"What are you going to do about it?" Bonnie challenged. "I already know the answer. You'll do nothing. Because it would upset _Elena_. And everyone knows she's got you on a leash. You're like a lost puppy, licking at her heels, desperate to accept any measly scraps she'll throw you. It's pathetic."

Damon's grip on her tightened painfully but Bonnie forced herself not to react. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"That's rich coming from the girl who's got her own werewolf as a pet," He sneered.

"Make snide comments as much as you like, Damon. It's not going to change my opinion of you," Her expression turned curious. "Why do you care, anyway? What does _my opinion _matter to you?"

Damon hesitated. _Why did he care_?

He could fool himself that it was because of Elena. The witch was her friend so he would try to play nice with her. But then so was Caroline, and Damon had no problem being a complete prick to her. He had never even bothered to apologise to the blonde cheerleader for what he did to her. Yet with Bonnie, he had wanted to try for a truce, a clean slate after his horrendous first impression. Bonnie was different. For reasons he didn't want to examine too closely yet.

"Damon?"

He didn't like the way she seemed to be studying him. He could practically see the wheels turning in her head. Her clever, annoying, little witchy brain was devising a plan of attack, getting ready to win this round.

He couldn't have that.

Damon opened his mouth, ready to deliver a crushing, sarcastic retort, but he didn't get the chance.

He and Bonnie froze as a far too familiar scream sliced through the night air. Looking into her eyes; deep emerald pools, wide with alarm, Damon knew they were thinking the same thing.

_That sounded like Caroline._

XXXX

A groan from the blonde form crumpled on the ground alerted them to the fact that Caroline was still conscious.

"Are you alright?" Bonnie frowned when she saw the cut on her friend's forehead. Moving her hand over the wound, her eyes flashed gold and then a soft blue light emerged from her fingertips. A few seconds later, the bleeding had stopped and Caroline only felt a dull ache, where before there had been a searing pain.

"You have healing powers?" She asked in awe.

"No," The teenage witch shook her head. She immediately regretted the action as her vision swam for a moment. "I just know some basic healing spells." She got to her feet, stumbling slightly and Damon moved quickly to steady her.

"Easy, there Judgey," He peered down at her. "You good?"

"I'm fine," Damon frowned at the way she shoved him away from her, but turned his attention to more urgent matters.

"Caroline, I'm assuming you didn't bash your own head into that tree," He said bluntly. "So what the hell happened?"

The blonde girl didn't answer straight away. Then a look of stark realisation swept over her features.

"Tyler," She said, panic creeping into her voice. "There were two of them. Two vampires. One attacked me and the other took Tyler."

"They were after Lockwood?"

"You're half right."

Three heads whipped round at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. A young man, who looked about Damon's age, approached the trio. His sable eyes fixed intently on Bonnie.

"That's him," Caroline unconsciously took a step closer to Damon. "He attacked me."

The dark-haired vampire smirked at the blonde teenager. "Consider yourself lucky. I could have done far worse. But my business is not with you tonight," He turned back to the teenage witch. His expression was emotionless. His eyes, however, turned bright crimson and Bonnie shuddered. The killing intent coming from this vampire was so strong she thought she might choke on it.

It was the only cue Damon needed. Fangs bared, black veins visible, revealing his own predator visage, the elder Salvatore charged their opponent. This proved to be a mistake. Caroline shrieked in fright as Damon was sent flying backwards, hitting his back against a tree some ten feet away.

"Caroline, get out of here," Bonnie urged.

"What about you?"

"Please Care, just go!" Thankfully, the blonde cheerleader seemed to recognise her urgency and did as she was told.

The enemy vampire was advancing on Damon, who was taking a lot longer to recover from the blow than usual.

"Is that all you've got? How disappointing."

With a swift movement he had Damon by the throat, raising him to eye level as he tightened his grip on the raven-haired vampire.

"Let him go!" Bonnie's voice echoed loudly in the stillness of the wood; her eyes flashed gold. Thousands of hot needles pierced through the vampire's skull and stars burst through his vision. He let out a strangled cry and dropped Damon, who immediately started coughing and sputtering.

Bonnie, however, was struggling to sustain the attack. Either she was still weakened from the effects of her mental prison, or he was a much more powerful vampire than she had ever faced before. She was alarmed when he straightened up suddenly, his features disconcertingly calm, and his gaze fixed on her. "Nice trick. But you'll have to do better than that," His voice was low, yet she was able to hear him as though he were shouting.

The strange vampire let his eyes travel the length of her body, taking in her wind-swept hair, baggy sweater, and worn jeans. He sniffed and didn't look impressed.

"You carry the stench of _her_ all over you. The Bennett whore that turned my treacherous brother. Tell me Miss Bonnie, would you like to see your mother? Because I will gladly move you closer to her."

The teenage witch trembled and she could feel herself slightly swaying on her feet.

Damon, now back on his feet, attempted a sneak attack from behind. He didn't even see his opponent move, but suddenly his wrists were in an iron grip and he was wrenched forward. The vampire slammed him face first into the grass, pining his arms behind him in one smooth motion. He was pretty sure the bastard broke his nose.

"You are far too slow," the vampire said, as though he were chastising a naughty school boy.

"Modus!" Bonnie cried. Their enemy was thrown several feet backwards, but it barely slowed him down, and he came barrelling towards her again.

She managed to block a well placed kick to the temple, which seemed to surprise them both. But Bonnie let her guard drop a moment too long. The vampire landed a hard punch against her abdomen as he backed her up against a tree. Bonnie doubled over in pain. Her arms hugged her stomach and Damon cursed as he noticed her cough up a small amount of blood.

It was a miracle, frankly, that the little witch was still standing. But Damon knew she could not withstand the assault much longer. He shot forward, intending to intercept the bastard's next strike. Azure eyes locked with jade and Bonnie's eyes widened. With a growl that could hardly be considered human, Damon pushed himself off the tree that Bonnie had been pinned against. The muscles in his back screamed in pain, protesting the movement, but he fought against it turning to focus on his enemy. But he wasn't there.

There was a rush of wind and his opponent was suddenly tackled backwards by another force.

Klaus threw a flurry of attacks on the vampire, who could only block the rampage of punches and kicks. Damon held Bonnie against his side, letting her lean on him while he leaned against the tree. Neither of them gave any thought to their closeness, too preoccupied with the sparring match taking place. In all the years of his immortal life, the elder Salvatore had never seen a fight like this. The speed, the agility, the strength...even with his enhanced vampire vision, he was having a hard time following every single attack the two supernatural creatures were making. They moved so quickly, they almost seemed to 'disappear' and 'reappear'.

"You think you can _attack_ those I love, without consequence?!" Klaus thundered and Damon felt Bonnie shudder against him. Klaus was so enraged; his desire to kill, to maim, so strong, it was as if it were a physical thing.

The vampire went flying across the clearing, skidding on his heels a few feet before he came to a stop. Klaus charged after him. "You betrayed Elijah!" He staggered back as Klaus landed an unexpected blow to his shoulder. "You _murdered _Abby!" Klaus slammed his fist into the vampire's chest with enough force to break a few ribs, "and now, you think that you can come after Bonnie!"

"You finally get it," the vampire smirked despite being in a lot of pain. "Do what you want with me; you're still going to fail, just like you failed eighteen years ago. You couldn't save Elijah's whore then, and you can't save his child now!"

The vampire's crimson eyes snapped to Bonnie and the witch gasped, realization breaking over her like a wave. Damon had to physically restrain her as she tried to charge at the other two supernatural beings.

"You're lying!" She cried out, still fighting against Damon's grip.

"Am I?" He choked out through Klaus's tightening hold. "Tell her, _Uncle _Klaus."

Bonnie looked to the werewolf, desperately searching his face for some sign that the vampire's words were false. But the thing she had been praying not to see flickered in his eyes.

A guilty acknowledgement.

Bonnie stiffened in Damon's grasp. She felt a chill come over her as she started recalling voices out of her memory.

_Do you think she's not going to notice that she's different? _

_My half-brother, Elijah... He was actually the one who first went to Abby..._

_You carry the stench of her all over you. The Bennett whore that turned my treacherous brother._

She couldn't breathe.

_I told Bonnie about my friendship with Abby...I didn't say anything to her about her father._

_So what changed?_

_Elijah._

Her chest tightened painfully, her mouth felt dry as cotton. Bonnie had no protection against the well of emotions storming through her.

_Tell her Sheila. Before she finds out some other way._

"Holy shit!" Damon cried jumping back as the row of trees behind them suddenly burst into flame. Lightning streaked across the sky and the earth started to tremble beneath them. Both Klaus and the vampire were knocked off their feet. Using Klaus's distraction, the vampire threw the werewolf off him before tearing away into the surrounding darkness.

Klaus started to go after him but Damon's voice stopped him.

"Bonnie!" The raven-haired vampire was calling to the witch. She was standing about a foot away and seemingly oblivious to the destruction taking place around her. Bonnie was so tightly coiled with tension that Klaus feared she might shatter from it. He was by her side in an instant.

"Bonnie!" His voice was low, sharp and commanding. "You need to calm down."

The witch struggled to focus on him. Hot tears pricked her eyes as she struggled for control, refusing to let them fall. She could feel a strong hand moving up and down her back soothingly, and a voice softly commanded her to breathe. The crushing weight on her chest finally started to ease and her gaze flickered to his concerned sea-green eyes. Her eyes flashed gold briefly and just as quickly as it had started, the flames disappeared and everything went still.

"Bonnie..."

"Tell me," She spoke, proud of the fact that her voice didn't shake. "I need to hear the words, Klaus. I need to hear you _say it_."

He pressed his lips together. Didn't answer.

She waited, her heart pounding, a splinter of ice down her spine, her fingers trembling so badly she twisted them together in front of her.

"Have you ever heard the name Mikaelson?" He said finally.

"Don't change the subject, Klaus." Bonnie wished she weren't quite so shaky. Wished she weren't so tired that she felt like she might fall over.

"I'm not," He said earnestly. "You've asked me about your father; you want to know who he is. Then you need to understand his family."

XXXX

There were only murmurs at first. A low rumble, definitely male. A soft, hushed voice, and definitely female, uttering a repetitive chant. His back arched as an excruciating pain intensified in his chest and his eyes snapped open; dark orbs moving wildly, unseeing, in an effort to deal with the pain as well as determine where he was and _who_ was with him.

Tyler tried to get his mind to focus. At first it looked like a dark blob and he had to blink a few times until the film coating his eyes receded. Finally getting his body to co-operate with his mind, the blurry image separated into two distinct figures.

He was sitting on a chair, unrestrained, yet his limbs felt so heavy and numb he doubted he would be able to move his body, even if he wanted to. The room he was in most closely resembled a basement. It was lit only by candles and smelled strongly of wet dust. A veiled woman was chanting over what looked like a stone basin, engraved with unusual markings. The material obscured her features but he did catch a glimpse of auburn hair and noticed that the amulet she wore was glowing.

The man, no more than twenty five years of age, stood before him. He was tall and lean, with dark brown hair falling around his jaw. His posture was that of a soldier. Tyler recognised him as one of the vampires that had attacked him and Caroline.

"So you're awake." He could hear the pleased smirk in the vampire's voice. He crouched down so that he and Tyler were level; his charcoal eyes, cold like a fish, boring into his captive. They held the promise of pain, torture and eventual death in their intense gaze.

"You..." The teenager started hoarsely, but that was all he was able to get out before being overcome by a violent coughing fit. Tyler was vaguely aware of some shuffling beside him before he felt the rim of a cup placed against his lips. He accepted the offering, drinking thirstily.

"What have you done with Caroline?" He bit out harshly, as though he had swallowed sand.

"That's not how this is going to work. _I_ ask the questions and you're going to tell me _exactly _what I want to know."

"I'm not telling _you_ anything, arsehole," Tyler spat with disgust.

Instead of being offended, the vampire smiled. A hand fisted in his hair and yanked his head back.

"You are in no position to challenge me," He murmured. "Your uncle tried that. It didn't end too well for him. So I'll offer you this single warning, because I was brought up to be polite. _Don't _test my patience, Mr. Lockwood."

XXXX

Bonnie didn't know how long she had been walking. Her clothes were soaked through, the hem of her jeans caked with dirt; her hair beginning to curl and stick to her face. It had started raining not long after she left Klaus and Damon in the woods. Ignoring their cries for her to come back, Bonnie had stumbled blindly through the woods and somehow reached the main road. She ignored the sharp, stabbing pain in her ribs each time she exhaled, half welcoming it; a reminder of her physical vulnerability that was very human; that _she_ was _human_.

_Only, I'm not. Not anymore._

It was the cruellest irony. To find out she was the very thing she had always loathed, distrusted. Bonnie blinked hard as her vision started to blur, unsure whether it was from her tears or the rain. The bright head lights of an oncoming car appeared and she moved closer to the shoulder of the road. Instead of passing her as she had expected, the car drew to a stop. When the driver emerged, Bonnie understood why.

"Have you lost your senses completely?! What are you doing out on the road in this state?"

Her grandmother climbed out of the car, umbrella in hand, her expression wavering between annoyance and concern as she looked at her young granddaughter. Bonnie stared back at her numbly. Her chartreuse eyes, usually bright with defiance or dancing with mirth, were now suspicious and distrusting.

"I could ask you the same question," She said finally. Sheila's gaze narrowed.

"Do not sass me, young lady. I haven't forgotten that you disobeyed me tonight. And given everything that's happened you should have listened to me. Klaus called," Her grandmother answered Bonnie's unasked question.

"Then you know why I don't want to be around you, or anyone else right now," Bonnie said coldly.

"So what's your plan? You're gonna walk all the way to town in a rainstorm?"

"I can take care of myself."

"Bonnie, get in the car. Now. You are being _irrational_."

The younger witch released a strange sound. Her face changed and her coldness exploded into a burst of heated rage.

"_Irrational_?!" She made an outraged gesture with her hands. "My _father, _is a _vampire!_ His brothers, my_ uncles_, tried to kill me and my friends tonight. And his werewolf half-brother, also my uncle, protected us. And now I am this weird vampire-witch-hybrid...this..._abomination_! That by rights, shouldn't even exist! But here I am! _Nothing_ about this is _rational_! And you've been lying to me about all of it, this whole time!"

"Bonnie, we cannot have this conversation here-"

"Would we _ever _have had this conversation?" Bonnie spoke over her grandmother. "Were you ever going to tell me about Elijah Mikaelson and my mother, or was I just going to walk into the sun one day and burst into flames, and that would be it."

"Don't say such things..."

"...or maybe I would suddenly start snacking on other co-eds and then the big secret would be out. At what point were you going to stop lying to me about what I am..."

"Bonnie, please..."

"...or are you nothing but a hypocrite and a liar!"

"That is _enough!_" Sheila's voice cracked like a whip. "You are angry and upset, but I am _still _your grandmother, _Bonnie Alexandra Bennett_, and you will show me some respect!"

Bonnie didn't say anything but she was practically shaking with the force of her stormy emotions. Her mind was like an engine, racing out of control. _What am I?_ came the thought. _Who am I now? What is my purpose? What do I feel now? _The bitter sense of betrayal twisted in her gut, like a knife. How many times had her grandmother warned her against the danger of vampires, that they were no friend to humans; certainly not to a Bennett witch; and they should not be trusted. Grams had told her this, knowing full well the truth of her own granddaughter's vampire heritage.

"I never meant for you to find out like this," Sheila continued. "And I did keep the truth from you. But what's done cannot be undone. I know you don't want to believe me right now, Bonnie, but I do love you. And I've only ever tried to do what was best for you. You can hate me, you can be pissed at me. But I am _not _going to let you _bury_ yourself just to prove something to me. If you want to know why I did what I did, know about your parents, then you will get your butt in this car and let me take you home. That's your choice," Her grandmother's tone was uncompromising at best.

Bonnie felt her jaw clench and she had to force out her reply.

"Fine," She said tightly. Disregarding everything except the fact that Grams had agreed to tell her the truth, Bonnie climbed into the front seat slamming the door shut.

XXXX

The ride back to the Bennett house had been silent. Bonnie had stared resolutely out the window, and Sheila had been focused on her driving. The rain wasn't falling as heavily, but it was still enough that she had needed to be on alert.

Bonnie was a little calmer by the time they arrived at the house, though still visibly upset. But she did let Sheila help her wash up and treat her injury with a simple healing spell. Her grandmother considered that progress. Now she was seated at the kitchen table while Sheila finished making them some cinnamon tea.

"That should put some warmth back in your bones," Grams said, setting the cup in front of her.

A not altogether uncomfortable silence settled over the two women. Bonnie took slow sips; the tension in her gut beginning to ease as the warmth hit her stomach. She looked up, meeting her grandmother's gaze for the first time since she climbed into the car.

"How did you know where to find me?" She said.

"Honey, I'm a _witch_," Sheila gave a small, indulgent smile. "Niklaus was worried about you when he called. Said you ran off in the middle of a storm. So I cast a simple locator spell. One thing we can say for Niklaus; he always looks out for you."

"But you still hate him."

Sheila sighed.

"I don't _hate _Niklaus," Bonnie was surprised by her grandmother's admission. "But he's a reminder of things I don't like to remember. Losing your mom, all the mistakes I made with her. And Elijah."

"Klaus told me about the Mikaelsons. How Mikael condemned Elijah for marrying my mother."

"I suppose that was one thing Mikael Mikaelson and I agreed on," Grams acknowledged bitterly. "Understand Bonnie, for as long as we have existed, vampires and witches have looked at each other as enemies. That kind of prejudice is not easily changed."

"Mikael saw Elijah's relationship with Abby as a betrayal of both his blood and his kind. That he had violated the family honour by fraternizing with a witch. And when Mikael learned that your mother was pregnant with you, his rage was uncontrollable. He could not stand the thought that Elijah had tainted, as he saw it, the purity of the original bloodline. Mikael pursued them. He hunted his son like an animal, determined to destroy the life he and Abby had built. Your mother came to me for help, but I refused."

Bonnie frowned. "But she was your daughter."

"People do what they do, and what they know," Her grandmother spoke sadly. "I was stubborn, proud. And I was angry at her for the path she'd chosen. So I let my pride speak before the love I had for my child."

"So when you wouldn't help, Abby and Elijah went to Klaus."

"His brotherhood sheltered them for a while," The older Bennett witch swallowed hard over the lump in her throat. Her gaze dropped to the dark liquid swirling in her cup.

"But something went wrong," Bonnie tried to ignore the sudden hollowing in her chest. She needed to hear this. "What happened to my parents?"

Sheila looked at her curiously. "Klaus didn't tell you?"

"He thought it would be better for me to hear it from you."

Her grandmother gave a very unlady-like snort. The older Bennett didn't know whether to kiss the werewolf for his prudence or kick him. She did prefer to be the one to have this conversation with Bonnie. On the other hand, there was no worse feeling than telling someone that their loved one was gone.

"Your father knew that Mikael would never stop coming after them," She started, a familiar ache rising in her chest. "And the life of a fugitive was not what he wanted for his wife and unborn child. Elijah went to Mikael and tried to make peace. But your grandfather betrayed him. He tricked Elijah into giving up Abby's hiding place with the werewolves. Then he ordered his younger son, _Henrik_, the same vampire you met tonight, together with a dark sorceress, to kill you both."

A familiar chill ran down her spine as Bonnie recalled the look in the vampire's eyes, the killing intent she had sensed from him. In that moment she had been imprinted with an image of death and it was not a feeling she would soon forget.

"The moment you were born," Grams continued, "Henrik and the sorceress attacked. Abby was in no condition to defend herself. And the werewolves were no match for a witch as powerful as Sybilla. Niklaus tried to stop it, but he had learned of Mikael's plan too late. He could not get there in time to help Abby. But he did fight Henrik and managed to save you."

Bonnie blinked and a single tear rolled silently down her cheek. Sheila reached for her hand and squeezed.

"I'm so sorry, baby."

Neither Grams nor Bonnie said anything for a while. The memory of the past a near tangible thing in the charged atmosphere of the small kitchen.

"I'm not proud of the choices I made," Sheila spoke at last. Her grandmother sniffed, betraying her raw emotions. "Or the role I inadvertently played in my daughter's death. She was my child. If I had chosen to act, I might have saved her. But my inaction, delivered her closer to danger. I will live with that knowledge, and that guilt, always."

"Why did no-one ever tell me?"

"I thought it was too dangerous," Grams tried to explain. "When Klaus brought you to me, told me what had happened, I swore that I would not repeat the same mistakes. I would keep you safe, no matter what."

"I had a right to know!" Bonnie pressed.

"I was trying to protect you. Niklaus led Mikael and Henrik to believe that you were dead. He had a white witch perform a powerful illusionary spell, to alter Henrik's memories of that night. Then Niklaus smuggled you to Mystic Falls. We agreed that it was best for you to have no knowledge of your father's family. Keeping you far away from the Mikaelsons and concealing your true nature seemed the best way to keep you safe."

"That's why you were so upset. When Klaus showed up..."

"He broke his word to me," Sheila's gaze hardened. "He had promised to stay away, to watch over you from the shadows. He knew the risks in contacting you, but he _still _sought you out."

"But why?" Bonnie demanded. "Why did he decide to approach me _now_, after _eighteen_ years? What changed?" It came to her then; fragments of a conversation between Klaus and her Grams.

_Does he know?_

_I can't be sure. __**She **__says she didn't tell him. But those words don't mean much coming from __**her **__mouth._

"Does this have anything to do with the woman I heard you two talking about earlier today?"

Grams couldn't help but smile. Niklaus's assessment had been right: her granddaughter's quick and agile mind wouldn't take long to piece things together.

"Niklaus informed me that we had made a mistake and you were possibly in grave danger. We were under the impression that he and I were the only ones who knew about your father, and your survival. Three days ago, he found out this was not the case. There is one other, who knew about you Bonnie."

"Who?" Bonnie said urgently, feeling a heavy weight in her chest begin to spiral up into a throbbing of dread.

"The same person who confirmed your identity to Tristan du Bois; who then told Niklaus that Tristan was coming for you. And likely the same person who informed Mikael that you were still alive."

_How did you find me?_

_I found out from an old... **acquaintance** that you were in trouble._

_Who?_

_Just a contact. Someone who trades in information, you might say._

She recalled her conversation with Klaus. He had been evasive about the identity of this _contact_ and, at the time, she had not understood why.

"Who is it, Grams?" She repeated. "Who else knows about me; about...what I am?"

Sheila looked grim. And angry. Bonnie felt herself freeze as Grams uttered two words she would never have expected.

"Katherine Pierce."

**TBC**

* * *

**AN 2: **Thanks for reading and apologies for the long wait. This chapter felt a little clunky to me, but I couldn't wrestle with it any longer. I'm at your mercy fair readers. Feedback is always welcome!


	5. Interlude I

**Author's note:** Apologies for the long wait. Reviewers, I adore you! Thank you so much for taking the time to leave such kind, encouraging comments.

To everyone who has favourited, followed, and is otherwise reading this story, words can't express how much I appreciate your support. Your enthusiasm for this tale goes a long way towards keeping me motivated to write it.

I've posted two new updates at the same time. This is because the first _interlude_ is much shorter than a regular chapter.

_Interludes_ feature events that take place in this AU before the start of the story in chapter 1, and/or scenes where neither Bonnie nor Damon appears.

And I'm going to shut up now and let you read in peace ;).

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

_**Interlude I:**_

"_**A truth that's told with bad intent beats all the lies you can invent."**_

_**One month earlier, March 13**__**th**__** 2010**_

The Mikaelson villa was built near the top of one of the highest hills in the area.

This vantage point offered an expansive view of the ever beautiful Provençal landscape - wooded hills, sloping vineyards, lavender fields, cypress and olive trees, and the tipped peak of Mont Sainte-Victoire on the horizon, breaking the line of the summer sky.

In the midst of these fragrant valleys, medieval villages, and Roman ruins, Marcel Gerard met his timely end.

Mikael breathed deeply of rosemary, lavender and blood as he watched Sybilla set fire to the decapitated corpse. The last of the day's light slanted in on them, bathing the grass, the flowers, the walls and gravel paths in burnished gold.

It was a fitting tribute for the former King of New Orleans. When he learned that Marcel had been plotting to regain control of the French Quarter, Mikael knew that an example had to be made. He had to assault Marcel's resistance straight away and crush him with maximum force. With his treachery exposed, the vampire had fled to France, foolishly believing that he would be beyond Mikael's reach there.

The whole business had been most unfortunate and very inconvenient; his truce with Marcel ending up more trouble than the vampire was worth. But it was done now. Mikael had cut off the head of the snake and his actions would send a powerful message to the very heart of New Orleans' supernatural order: anyone who chose to defy him, to fight against him, would meet certain death.

As the sun lowered behind the wooded hills, Mikael turned to the gravel path that led back to the house. He gestured for his sons, Henrik and Kol, to follow him.

"Sybilla, you will join us for dinner of course, when you are done," He offered the sorceress a courteous smile. She accepted his invitation and the three vampires left her to finish the burial ritual.

They were greeted in the courtyard by a very anxious housekeeper.

"What is the matter, Elodie?" Mikael was immediately on guard.

"Forgive me sir, but there is a young woman just arrived. She is asking to see you."

The Mikaelson patriarch frowned.

"You turned her down, I assume."

"Of course Monsieur, but she is most adamant. She desires some confidence with you and will not leave," The housekeeper confessed, her expression tight.

"Who is this woman?" Kol interrupted.

"She says her name is Katherine Pierce."

Drawing his brows together, Mikael tried to process the information. Obviously he recognized the name. Katherine Pierce. It had been another lifetime. She had always been brazen; always arrogant. Once upon a time, the manipulative wench had tried to weasel her way into his family; tried to play Elijah against his bastard half-brother. But Mikael had soon put a stop to that, exposing her duplicity. He honestly had not spared the harlot a single thought since then. It was two centuries ago.

Her presence now was curious to say the least.

She was not so stupid that she would dare trifle with his family again. Their last encounter was hardly amicable and Mikael had made it clear, he would not hesitate to kill her if she crossed them. Katherine had fled with her tail between her legs and that was where their association had ended. He had no idea, what possible reason she would have, to seek him out now.

"You put her in the study?" He asked. Elodie confirmed this fact. "Very well, let her stay there. I will attend to Miss Pierce shortly. You may return to your duties."

The housekeeper thanked him and then hurried off to finish arranging the family's evening meal.

"What do you think she wants, father?" Henrik asked as they entered the house.

"Evidently, she wants to talk to me."

"And what are you going to do?"

Mikael smirked.

"Talk to her."

XXXX

When Mikael entered the study, freshly showered and dressed for dinner, he saw the brunette sitting in one of the leather chairs across from his desk.

"I see you've lost none of your audacity, Miss Pierce," He said.

She stood up and offered him a deceptively sweet smile.

"Neither have you, dear Count. Your victory over Marcel will certainly give your enemies something to think about. They know now that their treachery will not go unpunished."

If Mikael was surprised by her knowledge of his recent troubles in the French Quarter, he hid it well.

"It's certainly a lesson I taught you well," He retorted. "I hope you've remembered it."

For the smallest moment, her confident mask slipped and Mikael didn't miss the flicker of fear in her eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it came and her expression was even again.

"I have no desire to have you as an enemy, Mikael. And, as a gesture of my goodwill, I have something for you."

She handed him a slim, manila envelope.

Its contents appeared to be some copies of a birth certificate, and a few photo printouts of a beautiful young girl, who couldn't be more than eighteen.

When Mikael read the names on the birth certificate, he stiffened and sucked in a sharp breath.

She didn't even see him move. One minute he was standing frozen in the centre of the room, the next he was directly in Katherine's face, wooden stake at her throat.

"This is a lie; this is **_not possible_**," It was said low and deadly. Even without his vampire face he looked terrifying. "I don't know what game you're playing, but you just made your last mistake. The child _died_. Henrik made certain of it."

"No Mikael," He moved the stake to rest directly over her heart. "Your granddaughter survived," Katherine continued evenly. Mikael was vaguely impressed by her composure, considering the very real possibility that she was about to die. "A witch named Idris cast a spell, to alter Henrik's memory of what happened that night. Klaus was able to escape with the infant and smuggle her to Virginia, to Mystic Falls."

"And why, should I believe a single word that falls from your poisonous mouth?"

Katherine winced as she felt the tip of the stake pierce her skin.

"You and I have one thing in common: that your stepson has been nothing but a thorn in our sides. Klaus is coming for me," Her voice trembled, betraying her fear. "I want to be free of him, Mikael. And you want to get your revenge on the man that murdered your wife."

The Mikaelson patriarch froze. He was coiled tight as a fist, and his eyes turned hard as stone.

"What do you know about Esther?" He demanded.

"I think you'll find my insight _valuable_. But only if you allow me to live."

Very slowly, Mikael lowered the stake and finally released Katherine.

"I'm warning you, Miss Pierce," He threatened, "if this is some elaborate attempt at manipulation…"

"It isn't," She assured him. "I told you. I don't want you for an enemy."

"Then why are you here? What is the point to all this?"

"You've been misinformed; just like you were about the Bennett girl. There is a way to bring your wife back. And I can tell you how."

"And in exchange," Mikael lifted his eyebrows, with an irony that was almost venomous. "I know you didn't come here out of the goodness of your heart."

Katherine didn't hesitate.

"I want you to destroy Klaus."

**TBC**

* * *

**AN 2:** The quote at the beginning is taken from the poem "Auguries of Innocence" by William Blake.

Thanks for reading! Hit the 'next' button and head on to the new chapter. Review if you feel like it ;).


	6. Adversity Makes Strange Bedfellows

**Author's note: **The magic incantations come from _Merlin_. I'm simply redeploying them for my own purposes. Some offensive language in this chapter. But I don't think it warrants an M rating.

**Disclaimer:** I still own absolutely nothing. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**5**

**ADVERSITY MAKES STRANGE BEDFELLOWS**

Bonnie rubbed her eyes tiredly as the words on the screen began to blur.

After hiding in her room for three days, she had grown fed up of brooding and feeling sorry for herself. It was not in her nature to sit passively on the sidelines. When she had a problem, she tackled it head on. So she had decided to treat the revelation about her parentage the same as any other supernatural puzzle. The first step – investigate: find out exactly what she was dealing with.

Research was always a good place to start, which is how she ended up at Mystic Falls Library for most of the afternoon. For hours she had been pouring over various myths and folklore, trying to find anything relating to a magical pregnancy between a vampire and a witch.

The closest she had come were some fragments of a Slavic legend. Although that lore was fairly specific about the offspring of a vampire male, and a human female, _always _being _male._ It also made no mention of the human female being a witch.

_More than a thousand years of mythology and not a single mention of a vampire-witch union_, Bonnie thought, waiting for the library catalogue's homepage to reload. Grams had not been exaggerating when she said that vampires and witches had been destined to remain on opposing sides.

Until Abby and Elijah that is.

She had tried searching for 'Original Vampires' or 'Mikaelson' but that had turned up empty. Whatever information may exist about her father's family, _her _family, it clearly wasn't on public record.

The lack of information was making her increasingly anxious. It was a terrifying prospect to think of the blood flowing through her veins and not understand what it meant.

What was she now? How did her vampire heritage meld with her magic? Was the vampiric side of her nature lying dormant, destined to emerge at some inopportune time? Would she too start craving blood or be vulnerable to a wooden stake? Was she immortal?

These questions and a hundred others raced through her head. She wished she could talk to Klaus. But her werewolf uncle was away for the next few days, trying to chase down a lead on Tyler's whereabouts. He had come by two days earlier to let her know and to apologise. He also told her that if she needed him, for any reason, he would come straight back no matter where he was, or what he was busy with, and gave her a secure number to reach him at.

Bonnie felt it would be too selfish, dragging him away from a task to help her friend. Caroline was sick with worry, as Elena's frequent texts continued to inform her.

A pang of guilt twisted in her chest at the thought of her friends.

She had been avoiding them since Saturday night, only sending them a few abrupt, very vague text messages. Maybe it was cowardly, but Bonnie just wasn't ready to face the interrogation she knew was sure to come.

How did you explain to your friends that you were a supernatural phenomenon that shouldn't exist? Especially when you barely understood it yourself.

"Come on," Bonnie muttered under her breath as she hit enter on the new search. "Give me something...a sign...a clue..._anything._"

A raven chose that moment to swoop through the open window and land on her copy of the _Encyclopaedia of Monsters_.

Startled, Bonnie let out an embarrassing squeak that earned her a few dirty looks from the other patrons. Fighting a blush, she turned to look at the bird that was watching her with surprising intensity. There seemed to be a lot of them around lately. Bonnie had found a bird perched on the roof of her Prius that morning.

"Ok, this isn't exactly what I meant," She mumbled. As if it had heard her, the raven took off, ascending towards the rafters.

"_The Vampire in Lore and Legend," _Bonnie's head whipped round so fast it was a wonder she didn't give herself whiplash.

In the next moment her breath caught, as she got a good look at the stranger that had appeared beside her. He was older than Klaus, in his mid to late thirties, and casually examining her book.

"You have an interest in the macabre?"

The young witch swallowed hard as a pair of deep, violet eyes looked at her with curiosity. They were offset by the rich, chestnut colour of his hair that he wore long; the unruly curls just brushing his shoulders. This man radiated a kind of regal otherworldliness, power and strength. Bonnie couldn't help admiring his patrician features, the strong line of his jaw and his slim shoulders. For a moment, she thought she might swoon like every romance heroine she'd ever read, but she managed to resist the silly impulse.

"It's for my English class," She spoke quickly, finally ungluing her tongue from where it had been stuck to her palate. "I'm writing a paper on the literary history of the vampire," the lie rolled off her tongue far too easily.

"I see," the stranger nodded in understanding. "You go to Mystic Secondary School?"

She nodded.

"Then perhaps you would be interested in some of the local lore." The witches' eyes widened. He couldn't possibly be speaking about the Salvatores.

"Every town has its secrets. Even one as charming and quaint as Mystic Falls," He set the book down. "Have you ever heard the tale of Lady Somerset? She was a real figure of nightmare."

"Why?"

He leaned in conspiratorially. "Lady Somerset was obsessed with finding a way to defeat death. She believed blood was the source of eternal youth."

"The lady was known to have a particularly fierce temper. As the story goes, when a servant girl accidentally pulled her hair, she struck the girl so hard she drew blood. But," He paused dramatically, "the blood that appeared seemed to give the skin a fresher, more youthful appearance. And so she began her bloody campaign, draining the bodies of her hand maidens. There were rumours, too, of her involvement with the occult."

"Witches?" Bonnie frowned. As far as she knew, the only witches in Mystic Falls had always been of the Bennett line.

"Oh yes. Lady Somerset was believed to partake in all kinds of corrupt acts of depravity," his voice lowered to a whisper, "and sexual deviance." The young witch fought the impulse to blush as his tone became decidedly more intimate. Alarm bells were going off in her head and Bonnie quickly put some distance between them.

The stranger betrayed no outward sign that he was aware of the effect he was having on her.

"_Neila Somerset_," He continued. "Look it up. I'm sure the tale will make _very interesting_ reading."

The raven suddenly swept down from the rafters, passing right over her. Bonnie ducked instinctively and when she looked up again, the man had vanished.

Worrying her lower lip between her teeth, Bonnie turned his words over in her mind.

The entire encounter had been strange, particularly her reaction to him. Bonnie was a normal, hormonal teenage girl. But she had never had such a visceral reaction to any man before. It wasn't even sexual attraction. She couldn't put a name to the inexplicable draw she had felt to the enigmatic stranger.

It was troubling. The feeling that she may no longer be in control of her own senses. But she was intrigued now.

Giving herself a firm mental shake, Bonnie entered 'Neila Somerset' into the search function. One title popped up in the results. The oddness of their encounter aside, there was evidently some truth to what he had told her, she mused as she scribbled the title and shelf number down before heading to the information desk. _The_ _Blood Countess: Murders at Mystic Hill Manor _was in the Rare Books and Special Collections section. Only the librarian could retrieve the books for you.

"Oh dear," The pretty librarian frowned when she saw the title Bonnie had requested. "I'm afraid we no longer have this in our collection."

"It's listed in the catalogue."

"Unfortunately, we haven't had a chance to update our system yet. It was a month ago. Our only copy was checked out but never returned." The woman tutted. "I don't know what we're coming to when people start stealing material from a _public library_."

Bonnie offered a sympathetic smile.

"Do you know where I might be able to find another copy?"

"That could be difficult," the librarian said apologetically. "It's been out of print for several years. The author was a local historian and he published locally, only about a hundred copies."

"Tell you what though," the woman brightened suddenly, "I'm sure there would have been some articles written at the time."

"Like newspaper articles?"

"Just so. Although the manor murders predate the _Mystic Mirror_, they would still have archives of Fell's _Mystic Journal_. You could try there. And if nothing turns up under 'Mystic Hill Manor', try 'Lockwood Manor' instead."

_That _got Bonnie's attention.

"Lockwood?" Her eyebrows arched in surprise.

"Yes. It's the same house."

XXXX

"Bonnie! Telephone for you! It's Logan Fell, from the _Mystic Mirror_."

The young witch bounded down the stairs and tried not to notice the suspicious way Grams was eyeing her.

"Mr. Fell," She said, picking up the receiver. "I didn't think you'd get to back to me so soon."

"_Well you got me curious. A three hundred year old murder case in Mystic Falls? That's more than your usual small town gossip."_

"And did you manage to find anything?" She asked eagerly.

_"It's not altogether good news. I checked the Journal, and there was mention of a case back in July, 1756."_

"So what's the bad news?"

_"The file was empty. It seems the police at the time seized all material and records pertaining to the case. Freedom of the Press wasn't a concept they were that familiar with back then. And unfortunately, access to confidential police files is above my pay grade. Sorry, kid." _

Bonnie thanked him for his help and then hung up. Sheila was still watching her.

"Grams?" Her voice came out smaller than she would have liked. But there were few things more terrifying than the patented Sheila Bennett glare.

"Would you like to tell me why Logan Fell is calling my _teenage granddaughter_?" The elder Bennett witch said sharply.

"It's nothing," Bonnie tried for nonchalance. "Just some research on local history. Mr Fell was helping me dig up some old newspaper articles."

Sheila's gaze narrowed with laser-like intensity and Bonnie fought the urge to fidget under her scrutiny.

"This research wouldn't have something to do with the disappearance of Tyler Lockwood, would it?"

"No," She spoke quickly. Too quickly.

Sheila sighed.

"Bonnie, I realise that things between us are still a little...raw," Her voice softened. "But please don't lie to me."

Bonnie remained silent, but she couldn't quite meet her grandmother's gaze.

"I know you just want to help," Sheila continued. "But you are meddling with things you don't fully understand. The Mikaelsons are dangerous."

"So that means we should just give in?" Her granddaughter's voice was incredulous; her chartreuse orbs sparked with defiance.

"_No_, that means we act with _caution_. And _pick_ our battles. Leave this one for Klaus. He said he would find Tyler. So whatever you're thinking, Bonnie, I want you to stop."

"I can't just abandon my friend," She retorted stubbornly.

"This is not up for debate." The young witch cringed at the steel in her grandmother's voice. "Now promise me. You'll let Klaus handle this."

Bonnie stood quietly for a moment. She was biting her bottom lip, uncrossing and crossing her arms again. Her body language was fairly screaming her reluctance.

"Okay," She said finally. Releasing a slow breath and sending a silent plea for her Grams to forgive her, Bonnie continued. "I promise to let Klaus be the one to rescue Tyler."

Sheila left her then, satisfied with her answer, and Bonnie went back to her room. She collapsed onto her bed, her brow crumpled as she felt the beginnings of a tension head ache.

She didn't like lying to her grandmother but backing down was not an option. Rolling onto her stomach, Bonnie reached for the notes she had been going over before.

'Mystic Hill Manor'_, '_1756'and 'Lockwood' were scrawled untidily across the page. It couldn't be a coincidence that Tyler had captured the interest of a group of vampires when, nearly three hundred years ago, his _family home_ had been the site of a series of murders, committed by a rumoured vampire.

There _had_ to be a connection, she was certain of it. And her only possible lead was locked away in some dusty police archive. Sheriff Forbes wasn't likely to grant access to murder cases to a teenager.

Bonnie froze, a thought taking shape in her mind. She couldn't ask the sheriff for the case file, but there was someone else who could. It was still a long shot, but it was what she had to work with.

"Damnit," She groaned slightly. This wasn't going to be fun.

But if she wanted his help, she would have to swallow her pride.

XXXX

Damon wondered when exactly he had become so soft that teenage girls thought it perfectly alright to barge into his home and take over his living room.

He was a one hundred and forty five year old vampire who could snap your neck, and drain you dry, before you even had a chance to scream for help.

At one time, all it took was a carefully arched eyebrow and an icy glare, and that would be enough to strike the fear of God into any mortal soul. These days, all it got him was an eye roll, usually from one of the high school kids that seemed to frequent his company.

Two of them were rifling through his book collection right now.

Damon was pretending to be thoroughly engrossed in his copy of _The Call of the Wild_, while surreptitiously watching the proceedings. For the past half hour, Caroline and Elena had been doing a curious little two-step around Stefan.

If Caroline moved closer to Stefan to get a better look at the manuscript, Elena moved closer on his free side.

If Caroline sat next to Stefan on the sofa while he explained what an original vampire was, Elena perched on the arm rest closest to the younger Salvatore.

When Stefan handed a book back to Caroline, that she clumsily dropped, Elena asked Stefan to get a book for her that she couldn't reach. All of this was punctuated by a number of conspicuous looks exchanged between the girls. More than once Caroline threw a silent "What is _up_?" to the pretty brunette who feigned innocence.

To his brother's credit, Stefan very diplomatically chose not to acknowledge the teenagers' odd behaviour. But when Elena deliberately tripped, practically landing in Stefan's lap, while he was busy translating a passage of Latin for Caroline, even his saintly little brother could no longer ignore that level of ridiculousness. Stefan promptly excused himself and disappeared into the kitchen.

He had clearly had enough. And so had Damon.

It was amusing at first, to watch his brother diligently feign ignorance while Elena and Caroline practically made him into a Stefan sandwich. The two friends in question had now retreated to a corner of the living room. They started to argue in earnest, albeit in fiercely hushed whispers.

When Damon bothered to eavesdrop, he clearly heard Caroline asking Elena what her stick was. He frowned when he heard Elena retort that the blonde cheerleader was making a habit of moving in on her ex-boyfriends. To which Caroline sputtered indignantly and reminded the brunette that _Tyler_ was her boyfriend, and he had never shown any interest in Elena. This last point was made rather gleefully. They continued to get into it, but Damon tuned out, preoccupied with his own thoughts.

He had always believed that the reason Elena resisted his advances was because she was determined to stay faithful to her boyfriend – it was the principle of the thing.

At the time, Damon had admired that quality in the young Gilbert girl. Although it didn't make him any less determined to steal her away from his brother.

But Stefan was no longer part of the equation and still she seemed to be dancing between the two of them. Earlier, when she first arrived at the boarding house, Damon had overheard her talking to Stefan; heard her tell Stefan that she still loved him.

She had kissed Damon. And with that same mouth whispered sweet nothings in his little brother's ear.

He couldn't fault Stefan though, as much as he would like to. Stefan had made it clear to Elena, _again,_ that they were over and he was not going to go down this road with her a second time. But despite this, there she was, not ten minutes later, engaging in that childish display with Caroline. Damon was beginning to question whether Elena wasn't so much virtuous, as she was flighty. And too weak willed to make her own decision.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to gather his resolve.

He would wait for Elena because she _could_ love him. She _did _love him. She just needed time to come to terms with it, to accept it.

_You're like a lost puppy, licking at her heels, desperate to accept any measly scraps she'll throw you. It's pathetic._

An irritatingly familiar voice echoed in his head.

Oh no, he was not going to give credence to _her _words.

_Would any powerful, self-respecting, centuries old vampire really let himself be strung along by an embryo in heels? _The voice nudged him again.

_It's a valid point, brother._

Great. Now he was hearing Stefan in his head, evidently agreeing with his...what?...id?...conscience?

He needed to get drunk.

Moving to pour a glass of bourbon, Damon downed his drink in one gulp. He poured another, attempting to drown out his treacherous thoughts.

Damon would wait. And he would continue fighting to be patient because he loved Elena...right?

_KNOCK! KNOCK!_

"Oh this day just keeps getting _better_ and _better_," He snarked when he saw exactly _who_ was standing on the other side of the heavy oak door.

There, in all her annoying, judgey, witchy – or should that be _vamp_itchy now – glory, stood the bane of his existence; Bonnie Bennett, the girl who's favourite past times seemed to be setting his brain on fire or confusing the hell out of him.

"Hello to you too, Damon." He made a careless gesture for her to enter.

The witch arched a sceptical eyebrow as she followed him to the centre of the room.

"You're in a mood," She noted. "Someone piss in your bourbon?"

"Funny." Damon dropped onto the sofa, not bothering to offer her a seat.

Bonnie frowned.

"You're a little light on snark this afternoon; bumpy day?"

"Do you care?"

Before Bonnie had a chance to respond she was tackled by a mass of blonde curls.

"Caroline...can't...need to breathe..." She managed to get out as her friend pulled her into a tight embrace.

"I'm sorry," The blonde smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes and was nowhere near its usual radiance. "I'm just...I'm really glad to see you, Bon."

The witch reached for her friend's hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.

"How have you been, Bonnie?" Stefan had ventured back to the living room.

Bonnie seemed to search the younger Salvatore's face, trying to see if there was anything else behind the innocent question.

"I'm alright," She said finally. Damon scowled as she smiled at his little brother. "It's just been a really weird couple of days."

The elder Salvatore snorted rudely.

"That's one way of putting it," He muttered under his breath. Bonnie shot him a warning look, but the blue-eyed vampire kept mum, putting on an otherwise bored expression

After Bonnie ran off, it had been left to him to clue their little group in on the events of the night. However, Damon left out the part about Bonnie being the daughter of an ancient, incredibly powerful vampire, and how her witch mother's pregnancy was an unprecedented event in the history of his kind. He hadn't even told Stefan.

From the way she was underplaying it now, clearly Bonnie wasn't yet ready to disclose the truth about her parents to her friends. That suited him fine. Damon was in no mood to field the torrent of questions he was sure the Scooby gang would have once they knew. So he would keep the little witch's secret.

He had been doing that a lot lately.

"You all look like you've been busy," Bonnie's voice cut into his thoughts. She glanced at the various books and loose manuscript sheets littering every surface. "What's going on?"

"Stefan's been helping us go through the Salvatore library," Elena spoke up and Damon felt another flare of annoyance at the tender look she gave his brother. "We thought we might come across something that could help us find Tyler."

The little witch turned to her blonde friend with concern.

"I'm a terrible friend," She said. "I'm sorry for not being there the past few days. How have you been Care? How's Tyler's family holding up?"

The usually bubbly girl shrugged.

"As well as can be expected, I guess. His parents are putting on a brave face, but it's clear they're out of their mind with worry. Tyler's family isn't perfect; he hasn't had the best relationship with his mum and dad. But he's still their son. I just want him back, Bon."

"You know, Klaus is doing everything he can to find him," Bonnie tried to reassure her.

"Good ol' White Fang."

"Shut up, Damon!" Caroline snapped fiercely, practically shooting daggers with her gaze as she turned her ire on him. "This Klaus guy doesn't even know Tyler and he's trying to help. What have you done?! You've been sitting on your ass all day, sulking in your bourbon! You're the same self-centred asshole you've always been; you don't give a shit about anyone, and no-one gives a shit about you!"

Caroline's chest heaved, looking for the air her rant had denied her body. Her porcelain skin was flushed with anger. Damon, however, was on his feet and ready to strike; his eyes so dark they almost looked navy blue.

"Damon-"

"I'm sorry, _Caroline_," He ignored his brother; his voice low and dangerous as he spat her name like it was something vile. "But I happen to be committed to _reality_. And the reality is, there's _nothing_ in these books that can help your boyfriend. Stefan may let you run through this little exercise in futility, so you can feel all warm and fuzzy inside, like you're actually _doing something_. But the truth is, you're useless; ineffective; there's _nothing_ _**you **_can do." Damon wielded every word like a weapon.

"If there's any way to find Lockwood, the werewolf will be on to it and whatever plan he's working is probably the only one that'll get the jock back. And if he can't, then I'm sorry to break it to you, sweetheart," He sneered, not sounding sorry at all, "but you'll never see your BF again. So excuse me if I choose not to waste my time on a bullshit errand."

Damon finished his speech by draining his glass. He felt surprisingly calm after ripping into Caroline. The girl in question was staring at him in horror, her mouth gaping awkwardly and her eyes reddened with unshed tears.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Damon?" Stefan spoke softly, but that didn't mask the angry disappointment in his tone.

"I tell it like it is," He retorted bluntly.

Elena guided Caroline to the nearest armchair. The little witch was staring at him, an unreadable expression in the depths of her mossy green gaze. But she didn't say anything to him, choosing to focus her attention on Caroline.

"Care, listen to me. We will find a way to get Tyler back," Bonnie spoke with conviction. "There's _always_ a way. And there may be something I can do to help."

"You mean, with your magic?" Caroline looked up at her friend hopefully.

Bonnie nodded.

"The locater spell I tried didn't work. But I'll see if there's another spell I can use. If it's in my Grimoire, I'll find it. We're going to make this right, Care, I promise. I won't give up on him. I will never stop fighting for Tyler, and neither should you."

She bent to hug her friend and when she pulled back, the blonde girl was sitting up a little straighter, evidently buoyed by the little witch's words. Even Stefan had stopped brooding; a hint of a smile in his eyes and renewed purpose. The cloud Damon's bitter speech had left hanging over them was beginning to clear, in the wake of Bonnie's impassioned words.

The little witch squeezed his brother's arm as she passed him and Stefan gave a small nod in silent understanding. Then she continued to make her way to Damon. He was leaning against the fireplace. Not the best place to be when about to confront an angry Bennett witch with incendiary talents.

Damon rolled his eyes and readied himself for the tongue-lashing he was sure Judgey had stored somewhere, just for such an occasion.

"So predictable," He murmured. "Alright then, Bon-bon. Take your best shot."

"Actually, I need to talk to you for a minute. In private."

Damon's eyebrows arched so high they practically disappeared into his hairline.

"Damon?" Bonnie prompted him when he just continued to stare at her dumbly.

"Damon Salvatore speechless," Stefan chuckled. "Never thought I'd see the day."

"Can it, brother," That seemed to bring Damon back to himself. "We can talk upstairs, Judgey." He added brusquely.

She followed behind him obediently and Damon could admit to feeling a petty satisfaction, as he felt Elena's narrowed gaze following him all the way until he disappeared from view, with her best friend, at the top of the stairs.

XXXX

Bonnie had expected Damon to lead her to another study or guest room. She had not thought he would bring her to his bedroom.

Seeing her hesitate in his doorway, he looked at her expectantly. "Are you waiting for a written invitation?"

Hearing the obvious challenge in his tone, Bonnie squared her shoulders, met his gaze purposefully and walked into the large master bedroom. Damon smirked at her obvious show.

_There's the judgey little witch I know,_ he thought.

"What's the plan then, Bon-bon? You get me up here all alone so you can torch me without witnesses?" He said bitterly.

Bonnie rolled her eyes. "Believe it or not Damon, I'm didn't come here to pick a fight with you."

"_Really_?" His voice was mocking. "Cause that's _all_ you seem to do lately."

"Lately. But not today. As much as I hate to say it..." Bonnie released a harsh breath, "...today, I need your help."

Azure eyes widened in surprise.

"I'm sorry, _what?_"

"You have vampire hearing, Damon; you heard what I said."

"_You_, need _my_ help?" He smirked. "Bonnie "do-gooder" Bennett, is asking selfish, assholian evil doer Damon Salvatore _for help_?"

"You could try to be less of an ass about it," Bonnie griped.

"That's not a very polite way to talk to the person whose _help_ you need."

"D'you think you can quit being obnoxious, long enough to actually hear me out?" Bonnie swallowed hard, struggling not to lose her patience. His reaction was no less than she had expected. But there was a bigger picture here. However, it was hard to focus on that when she kept envisioning her fist smashing into the raven-haired vampire's face.

"What's in it for me?" Damon challenged.

"Are you kidding me?" She burst out. "You want a quid pro quo? If anything, you're the one who owes me. I saved your life, remember?"

"Oh that's rich coming from you, Bonnie!" Damon snapped. "Out of the two of us, I'm definitely not the one who's been acting like they want to forget what happened. And now you summon me up here, like I have something to answer for. Well I don't answer to you. Fucking hell," Damon glanced heavenwards, as though praying for patience. "Do you ever get tired of being a self-righteous, sanctimonious bitch? I'm beginning to see why you don't have a boyfriend."

Okay, that was a low blow, and it admittedly kind of hurt. But Bonnie knew what he was doing. When Damon was angry, his instinctive response was to retaliate and take that anger out on the rest of the world. Right now, she just happened to be within firing range.

"You know what, screw this," She forced herself to swallow the hurt his words had caused. "I came here, against my better judgement, because I thought that maybe, just once, you'd be capable of being something other than a world class jerk. I don't know what's got you in such a pissy mood, but I'm not doing this with you, Damon. I'm not going to be your punching bag. You lashed out at Caroline before, and now you're trying to pull the same crap with me. Well I'm sorry, but that's not how this is going to go. If you're just looking for a fight, if you're not interested in what I have to say, then tell me and I'll quit wasting my time. Otherwise, get your shit together and maybe you can help me figure out what's been happening in this town."

Seemingly at an impasse, Bonnie and Damon stared at one another tensely in the charged silence. Behind her back, Bonnie twisted her fingers as she waited for the vampire's response. His expression was unreadable as his eyes bore into her.

"Fine," He spoke at last. "I guess it makes sense for us to try and figure this out together," Damon admitted grudgingly. "I know there are probably a million people you'd rather be doing this with, but I'm the only one who knows the whole story." Bonnie was surprised by that comment. So he hadn't even told Stefan; she'd wondered about that. "And let's face it, the others wouldn't be able to handle it anyway. But I do have one condition."

"Which is?"

"If you're gonna bring me into this, then I'm in all the way. That means no more Team Bonnie and Klaus, running around on your own private errands. You cut me in on everything. I get to know what you know. That _son of a bitch_ Henrik tried to kill me! And I don't take shit like that lying down," Damon spoke fiercely, his blue eyes glinting dangerously. "So I'm a part of this now."

Bonnie bit her bottom lip, contemplating his words.

"So basically, you're proposing we form a kind of partnership?" She hedged.

"Until this is over, yes," Damon nodded.

"Are you sure that's such a good idea?" She eyed him sceptically. "There's a pretty good chance we'll save Henrik the trouble and wind up killing each other."

"You don't give us enough credit, Judgey," Damon smirked. "We've made a pretty good team before. That is, when you stop_ lecturing_ me long enough."

"And when you're not being an _egotistical dick_," Bonnie retorted with mock sweetness.

"_Rude_."

Damon glared at her, but if Bonnie didn't know better, she would have sworn that he was actually more amused than offended.

"So what do you say?" He offered a pale hand. "Partners?"

_God, I hope I don't end up regretting this_, the teenage witch thought.

Bonnie accepted his hand.

XXXX

_Hider eft funde. On bisse ne middangeard._

His violet eyes glowed gold as he uttered the incantation and poured the libation into the basin. After a few moments the amber liquid was clear as a mountain stream.

_Hider eft funde. On Benedictus ne middanmidhis._

He chanted again and this time an image of the young witch appeared. Tristan frowned when he saw that she was talking to the raven-haired vampire again. She was telling him about Nelia Somerset and Lockwood Manor. She was convinced that it had some connection to their recent trials.

A slow smile spread across the warlock's face.

The witch had been set on her path. Her continued association with the vampire was not ideal, but Damon Salvatore may have some part to play yet. And if he proved an obstacle, he could be dealt with easily enough.

"A great destiny awaits you, Bonnie Bennett."

For now, Tristan was satisfied.

**TBC**

* * *

**AN 2: ** My OC Nelia Somerset is inspired by the tale of Erzsebet (Elizabeth, in the Western world) Bathory, dubbed the "Blood Countess", and considered by some to be the first female serial killer, as well as having connections to vampirism.

Some of you have been asking about what happened on Bonnie and Damon's weekend road trip (that takes place before the start of the story in chapter 1). I will be featuring a flashback at some point, showing what went down, and why it made Bonnie extra pissy around him. In the mean time...

Up next chapter: Damon and Bonnie do something illegal, which just might lead to some Bamon cuddles on the Salvatore Boarding House couch!

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed the new installments. Feedback is welcome and always appreciated.


	7. Partner in Crime

**Author's Note: **Thank you so much everyone for taking the time to read, favourite, follow, review and otherwise support this story.

Now strap in, lovelies! This is going to be a long one. Also, the point of view switches a lot throughout the chapter. I hope it's not confusing. And I am working on improving it and making it more consistent.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**6**

**PARTNER IN CRIME**

_The concentration of NH__3__ is 0.102 mole/litre, N__2__ is 1.03 moles/litre, and H__2__ is 1.62 moles/litre. Calculate __K__ for the reaction: 2NH__3__(g) ↔ N__2__(g) + 3H__2__(g)_

"Advanced Chem, huh?" Damon crouched down so he could read over her shoulder, leaning right into her space. "Seriously, Judgey. It's Friday and you're doing homework?"

When Bonnie had arrived at the boarding house, Damon was still out. He had left a message for her, telling her to wait for him in his bedroom. They would have more privacy and less chance of being interrupted.

Damon showed up half an hour later and was greeted by the incongruous image of the little witch sitting on his bedroom floor, books open, lying in a semi-circle around her. His drapes were open and the spill of afternoon light painted her with golden vibrancy; gilding her smooth skin and dark hair.

Bonnie curled up her lip, and Damon was close enough to see the details of the graceful line of her mouth.

"Well I can't exactly do it after I've been arrested," She huffed, snapping the book shut, "which, considering this insane plan, is looking pretty likely."

"This was your idea," Damon pointed out.

"Yeah, no thanks to you."

He met her eyes stonily. "It's not my fault Liz decided to be so inconveniently unhelpful. I'd compel her to give me clearance, but she happens to like her coffee with vervaine. If you're too scared to go through with this..."

She sucked in an outraged breath. "I am not scared."

"Good. Then if you're done bitching, can we go over our plan?" His smirk told her that he'd known that already – he'd only called her scared to get under her skin.

Willing down her annoyance, Bonnie made herself retain her composure. "Of course," She said coolly.

Getting to her feet, she followed Damon to a large, old-fashioned table set up in a corner of the room. It was covered in papers.

"What's all this?" She asked, reaching out to pick up a random file.

"You asked me to do research, didn't you?" He waved his hand over the mess on the table. "This is research."

Her mouth dropped open and Damon felt the corners of his mouth twitch, pleased that he had managed to surprise the judgey little witch.

"I just asked you to find out about the layout and security," She said incredulously. "What the hell is all this?"

Damon made an irritated noise in his throat and promptly snatched the file she'd been looking at away.

"Hey!"

"Do you want my help or not?" He sounded genuinely annoyed and Bonnie had the decency to look a little contrite.

"Yes, I want your help. Thanks for all the work you did," She said sincerely. Bonnie hadn't meant to give him a hard time, she was just surprised. He really had made an effort "Do you want to show me what you've got?"

Damon smirked lecherously. "Now there's an invitation if ever I heard one. Oww!" His eyes narrowed at the sneaky little witch.

Emerald flashed to gold and his copy of _Jude the Obscure_ had smacked him firmly in the back of the head. A flick of her wrist sent the book floating neatly back to its place on the shelf. Damon grumbled something under his breath, but Bonnie couldn't make out the words. She decided that was just as well.

Glaring at him, she continued. "I'm not playing around here, Damon. So stop pushing buttons and give me something."

"My, aren't we edgy today," He rubbed the back of his head. But he did show her.

"The archives are not actually in the sheriff's department but in the annex – a building two streets away," He explained. "Two security guards are posted out front during the day, one patrols the building at night. Inside, the front desk is manned by a very pretty, very helpful red-head," Damon added slyly, to which Bonnie rolled her eyes. "Every visitor to the archive has to present the proper authorisation and sign in to the desk log with her. She goes off duty every night at ten. But not before she's activated the brand new, state of the art, fancy security system the council had installed."

"Security system?"

Damon nodded. "Motion sensors, security codes...James Bond kinda deal."

She frowned. "For a bunch of old paperwork?"

"Apparently. There was a break in last month. Nothing was reported stolen. But that's when the council signed off on the new system."

Bonnie was staring at the floor, as if rehearsing a large amount of information in her mind. The break-in at the archive had happened in the same month that _The Blood Countess_ went missing from the library. Huh.

"Judgey? You still with me?" Damon waved a hand in front of her face.

"Yeah," She nodded quickly. "You were saying something about the security system..."

"No," He said, shaking his head. "I was telling you that the old case files are kept on the basement level. And it's accessed through a stairwell on the ground level. Try to keep up," His tone dripped with impatience.

Bonnie glared at him and muttered something rude under her breath. Damon's cerulean eyes widened.

"Vampire, remember?" He reminded her. "I can hear you."

"You were supposed to," She snapped back.

He sneered at her. "If you continue to be so sweet to me, I might regret agreeing to help you launch mission impossible."

Bonnie sniffed disdainfully and stuck out her chest. Damon knew it was purely a posture of indignation on the witch's part. But it also happened to make her cleavage become more prominent.

"Fine," She complained. "But you have to quit being a condescending jerk."

"Fine," He mimicked irritably, although his eyes darted down a few times to the deep crease and shadow her low neckline displayed. "Can I continue now?"

Bonnie nodded. "Please tell me. How exactly are we going to unlock the ground level door to the basement stairwell; which can only be accessed with a six digit clearance code, which we won't have?" Her lips started to twitch as she predicted his reaction. She wasn't disappointed.

His jaw dropped open.

"What?" She shrugged. "I told you I was listening. So what did you come up with?"

Damon unrolled a thick sheet of paper and spread it out over the other clutter on his table. She walked over and stood beside him to look down with him at the drawing.

"It's an old survey map of Mystic Falls," She realised.

He pointed her through the layout of the town. "During the civil war, the council built a series of subterranean tunnels under the town. So they could transport supplies in secret and, if the worst happened, safely evacuate the town. Some sympathizers with the abolitionists also used the tunnels to smuggle slaves out of Mystic Falls."

Drawing her eyebrows together, Bonnie looked at Damon curiously.

"How did you know about this?"

"These tunnels are how I smuggled Emily's children to safety."

The little witch blinked in surprise, while he continued to stare at her intensely; his expression at once curious and contemplative.

Bonnie had never known the specific details of Damon's deal with her ancestor. Only that, in later years, he had failed to honour it. But evidently, there had been a time when Damon had intended to fulfil his duty. It was also another reminder of just how old he really was. His eternally youthful appearance, frozen at twenty five, made it so easy to forget just how long and how much the vampire had lived through.

Their discussion had taken an unexpected turn and Bonnie felt strangely nervous. The same way she felt that night in Dublin, when Damon had allowed himself to be unexpectedly vulnerable with her. It was so much easier to view him through the bitter lens she had constructed over the past year; the one he, more often than not, played right into. When he did reveal another side to himself, it was jarring. Unsettling.

But she was too proud to let him see that.

"So which tunnel do you think we should use to get into the annex?" She said finally, already having guessed where this was going.

"Here. The old jail. Later a popular drinking hole in the 1950s, currently an abandoned block of disused offices," He was all business now, that strange intensity vanishing completely. He didn't call her out on her obvious avoidance of the fact he'd played a part in helping her ancestors. But something like dry amusement, was flickering once more in his eyes.

With an elegant finger, he traced a line across the map. "This should lead us directly to the basement level of the annex. We can get in and out, as we please. No clearance code, no security system. If we run into the guard, I can just compel him to go away."

Bonnie stared at the map. Her forehead wrinkled as she reflected for, what seemed to Damon, an endless stretch of time. And then she looked up. Emerald eyes shining.

"You really went all out," She said finally. "This is...this is really good, Damon. Thank you."

For once, there was no suspicion in her voice. Bonnie spoke with such simple sincerity, that she really was grateful and pleased with what he'd come up with.

"You're welcome," He shifted on his feet, almost shyly - something no one ever associated with Damon Salvatore.

He shook his head roughly, as if he'd said something he hadn't intended to say. "I'll pick you up at ten thirty this evening. We're less likely to get noticed if we go with one car."

Bonnie nodded in agreement. "I'll be staying at Matt's tonight. Grams isn't exactly thrilled about my recent extracurricular activities. So Matt's covering for me."

Damon cleared his throat. "Right."

"We're actually doing this then," Bonnie bit her bottom lip; a sudden nervous shiver of excitement running down her spine. "We're going to break into the Mystic Falls Police Archives."

"Looks that way." Then he couldn't resist adding, "I can't believe I've let you sucker me into this."

Bonnie cocked her head; her gaze knowing; lips tilting with an ironic smile. "You should be flattered, Damon. After all, I did choose you_,_" She said dryly. "Clearly, that makes you the biggest sucker of them all."

XXXX

The tunnels were dark and dank. Some sort of algae-like vegetation was growing on the narrow walls and you couldn't take a breath without your senses being assaulted by the sharp stench of sulphur. She half expected to find a corpse rattling around somewhere. Shining her torchlight, she spied her vampire companion coming back out the side tunnel he had just disappeared through.

"We need to go that way," He indicated the mouth of the opposite side passage.

"Damon..."

"Don't nag, Judgey. We'll be out in a minute."

Bonnie rolled her eyes in exasperation. _It is a truth universally acknowledged that a male, in possession of a map, will never concede he needs help with directions_, she silently parodied Austen's line.

They had been wandering the underground passages for forty five minutes now, when it should have taken them no more than fifteen to reach the annex. So far, Bonnie had held her tongue about the fact that Damon didn't know his way as well as he'd thought; the route he'd planned for them being less straight forward than he had anticipated. But the dark, confined space was starting to work on Bonnie, and her patience was quickly evaporating.

"You've been saying that for the last half hour," She grumbled.

"So we took a wrong turn here and there. But now-"

"But nothing," Bonnie interrupted rudely. "These tunnels run all over town, right up to the railway line. We could cross into the next county and be none the wiser. Face it, Damon. You have no idea where you are leading us."

He sneered at her. "I don't see you doing any better. In fact, so far, I've been doing all the work on this little venture."

Damon flung the map he'd been carrying at her, smacking her square in the face. "Go on, witch. You think I'm doing such a piss poor job? Figure it out and show us the way out of here." He was irritated with her now. But he wasn't the only one.

"I can do that," She acknowledged dryly. "But basic courtesy would have you phrase the request as a question rather than a bossy demand. Don't blame me for your poor sense of direction."

Damon actually felt his fangs drop. She had been right. They were going to kill each other long before they ever managed to figure this mess out. Right now, all he wanted was to snap her infuriating little witchy neck.

For her part, Bonnie seemed oblivious to the vampire fighting to resist his homicidal urges. Her brow wrinkled in thought as she studied the map. Biting her lip, Bonnie looked up at the two indistinguishable caverns in front of her.

Which one led to the annex - to the left, or to the right?

Then it happened.

It was the briefest of flashes, but her vision suddenly jumped forward, as though she were fast forwarding through the scenes of a film, and she clearly saw a network of tunnels and the archive at the end of them.

"I can see."

"What the hell..." Damon was looking at her strangely. His baleful glare replaced by bewilderment. "Bonnie...your face..." He trailed off.

Instinctively, her hand rose to touch her face. She gasped. The veins near her temples were unusually pronounced. Bonnie could clearly feel the bulging vessels.

"What's happening to me?" She asked desperately, her earlier irritation with him forgotten; eyes wide with alarm.

The raven-haired vampire shook his head. It was actually sort of pretty. The veins around her eyes were an unusual silver colour, almost opalescent. It reminded Damon of the black veins a vampire got when about to feed. Wait a minute.

"Bonnie, what did you mean before?" He said quickly. "You said you can see?"

"Damon, I think we have slightly more pressing issues," Her voice went up several decibels as she struggled to hide her growing panic.

"And I think I have an idea about that. But first, I need you to tell me what you meant," He urged.

"Uh...I..." Bonnie took a calming breath and tried to focus. "I could see the way ahead, as if I was tracking the path," She explained. "It was like a map inside my head. Does that make sense?"

"Yes actually," Damon nodded, a theory beginning to take shape. The sudden gleam in his eye was doing nothing to reassure Bonnie.

"Well would you care to share with the rest of the class?" She snapped.

"Bonnie, it's alright. Something like this had to happen eventually, right?"

"Damon, I swear to God, if you don't start making sense I'm gonna light you up like Litvinenko!"

Reaching out, he put his hands on her shoulders, in such a familiar way that Bonnie immediately calmed. The veins on her face had gone back to normal and Damon idly traced his thumb over her left temple. She didn't move a muscle, watching him anxiously.

"You know that vampires have enhanced sensory awareness," He explained. "But you're also a witch. I'm guessing that, whatever you inherited from your father's genetics, your magic could allow you to extend those abilities."

"So where a vampire would have enhanced sight..." Bonnie said, understanding dawning.

"...you'd be able to say, extend your field of vision and actually see the way ahead, for example. This isn't a bad thing Bon-bon."

"No, it's just a really freaky, weird thing."

"Says the girl who can start fires with her mind."

"Touché," Bonnie cracked a small smile but it didn't reach her eyes. She looked incredibly young suddenly; so small and frightened. Damon could hear her quickening breath, the nervous pounding of her heart; blood rushing through her veins.

"You ok?" His gaze bore into her, not entirely sure what he was looking for.

"Not really," She shrugged. "Just when I think things can't possibly get any—" She broke off. "Forget it. We don't have time for my identity crisis," She quipped. "If you're right about this, I might be able to see our route out of here."

"What you saw before, you think you can do it again?"

"Honestly, I don't even know how I did it the first time. But I have to try," Bonnie said, her face determined.

Focusing on the two tunnels, Bonnie tried to recall the image of the annex she saw and concentrated hard, channelling her energy. Damon watched in silent awe as the veins near her temples turned opalescent and became more prominent once more.

"This way," She said finally, heading into the tunnel on the right.

Bonnie continued to navigate for them and Damon followed wordlessly as she led them through the underground labyrinth, eventually bringing them to a heavy iron door, emblazoned with a familiar coat of arms.

"The crest of the original founders' council," Damon murmured, tracing the heraldic symbols.

"Then I guess we're in the right spot."

The door was chained shut but that presented no challenge to a hundred year old vampire with superhuman strength. Damon easily broke the restraints and then, at Bonnie's nod, turned the handle.

The door swung open with an eerie creak. Taking care, Damon stepped first through the doorway into the darkened room. Bonnie could make out one or two tables and the outline of several towering stacks. But their torches didn't provide enough light in the large room.

_Fromum feohgiftum on fæder bearme. Fromum feohgiftum._

Her eyes flashed gold and Damon watched as a glowing ball of light appeared in the witch's hand. She released it and the glowing orb floated upwards, lighting the whole room with its' gentle glow.

"Neat trick," He switched off his torch. Damon took a few steps forward, scanning the endless rows of case files; town secrets divvied up and boxed away; chapters of history the people would prefer to forget, the vampire thought bitterly. He froze then and drew his brows together. Bonnie gave him a questioning look.

"The guard," He answered her silent question. "He's doing a routine sweep."

"Close to us?"

Damon paused and listened again for the man's heavy footfalls. Somewhere above them he could hear the sound of a door opening and closing.

"First floor. I think he's working his way down."

"Then we need to get moving," She looked determined and before his eyes, the vulnerable teenage girl in the tunnels had once more shifted into a stern-faced witch.

"How are we gonna find the manor murders in all this?" Damon rubbed the back of his neck.

Bonnie actually smirked. "I may have some ideas about that. Locater spells aren't just for people."

Damon clapped his hands together gleefully. "The benefits of having a witch in your pocket."

"Excuse me?" The witch in question said sharply, brows elevated.

"I just meant being able to use magic is expedient. Convenient in a jam," He tried for a charming smile but if anything, Bonnie was now glaring at him harder.

"Convenient?" She parroted back. "For who? You?" The look in her eyes something between incredulity and ire. This conversation was going south, fast, and he needed to stop things before he ended up with his head on fire.

They both froze however when they heard a noise directly above them. A door opening. The guard was on the ground floor.

"We don't have time for this," Damon said impatiently. "This conversation can wait, that guard won't. And you have a spell to finish," He urged Bonnie to action.

She didn't argue but it was clear she was still annoyed with him. She took a few steps until she was standing in the centre of the room. Damon watched as she produced a piece of chalk from the small bag she had with her and drew an unusual pattern of letters on the floor.

"What are those?"

"Druidic runes," She said blandly at his curious stare.

"Shouldn't you be lighting candles or something?" He questioned.

"You've been watching that lame vampire series again," Bonnie rolled her eyes. "Now stop distracting me and let me finish the incantation."

Damon bit the inside of his cheek, resisting the urge to make a snide retort. He could hear the guard on the stairwell now.

Eyes the colour of ferns flashed gold as she uttered the spell and...nothing happened.

"Bonnie?" She was frowning, worrying her lower lip between her teeth.

"Give me a second, Damon."

"Did you say it right?"

"Of course I said it right."

"You're sure you don't need candles?"

"Damon!"

"Then what?"

"I...I don't know," She shook her head. "I'll say it again."

"Well say it fast," Damon glanced at the door to the stairwell. "We've got company."

A noise sounded at the end of the hall. She gave him what was becoming a very familiar sneer and repeated the incantation. Damon watched the door to the stairwell and listened for the guard.

_Berbay odothay arisan yeldo_

A door opened and shut...

_Diegol cnytte._

...and then a slow, heavy tread moving down the stairs...

_Gewitte me yst._

"I don't mean to pressure you Bon-bon..." The guard was almost down the stairs.

_Aliese hine, to he cymp!_

Suddenly, all the shelves began to rattle. There was a sound of rustling paper and a box flew off the stack near Damon, seemingly of its own volition, heading straight for Bonnie. The vampire had to dart out of the way. Unfortunately, he ended up stepping right back into the stack behind him.

Bonnie jumped and covered her mouth with one hand as all the boxes tumbled to the floor in a noisy, messy heap. Was horrified to see Damon had somehow ended up in the same heap as the boxes.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!" The vampire muttered furiously. He first looked startled, then like he wanted to hit something, then like he wanted to hit her.

"Who's there?" They heard a voice from a short distance away.

"Damn it!" Damon was back on his feet.

"Security. Show yourselves." The guard's voice came again, louder this time. He was getting closer to their position.

"Stay here," He said brusquely, and then flashed over to the stairwell door just as the guard opened it from the other side.

"What the hell!" The man stared in shock, stumbling back slightly at the sight of Damon standing right in front of him. "Show me your hands." He tried to sound authoritative, shining a flash light on to the vampire's face. "This is private property, mister. You can't be here."

Damon blinked, the dark pupil of his eyes dilating. "Turn that damn thing off."

The guard automatically turned the flashlight off and Bonnie realised he was under Damon's compulsion.

"You didn't see anything. Everything's fine. Go back upstairs to your post and finish your shift. At sunrise, you'll forget this ever happened. It was just another ordinary shift," He instructed; the timbre of his voice deep and low. "Go now."

The guard blinked a few times, and then turned around, going back the way he came. Bonnie and Damon were alone in the basement once more. With the guard taken care of, Damon's focus returned to the little witch.

"That was your fault." He glared at the chaos of boxes just behind her.

"I didn't make you walk into that shelf," Bonnie argued.

"No, you just hurled a box like a boomerang at my head!"

"You're so dramatic."

She picked up the box that was the cause of all the trouble, setting it on a nearby table so she could look through its contents. Damon watched as her lips moved silently and her eyes flashed gold. A second set of documents appeared on the desk.

"Be careful with these," Bonnie said, handing the original set of documents to Damon. She replaced the copies in the box. He rolled his eyes.

"Like I'm going to do damage just by looking at them," He grumbled. The look Bonnie gave him said that she thought he probably could.

"Let's just get out of here," She flicked her wrist and the stack Damon had upset instantly righted itself. Her brow crumpled with a painful grimace though, her hand going to her temple at the sudden stab of pain. Damon watched her tense body and face carefully.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing," She shrugged him off. When Damon didn't look convinced, she relented. "It happens sometimes when I use a lot of magic. And that vision trick was...I just pushed my magic more than usual. I'm fine. It'll pass."

Damon still looked sceptical but didn't question her any further. However, when he followed her back out to the tunnels, his hand went out unconsciously and settled in the middle of her back.

XXXX

They were driving back to the boarding house when the weather broke. A great rumble seemed to rise from the very depths of the earth and the sky was torn open, rain coming down in thick sheets.

Damon had arched a raven brow and half-jokingly asked, "Is this you?"

"Maybe one day," She had replied, it was the first sentence she'd spoken to him since they had left the archives.

Now they were tucked away in Damon's room, where they worked in companionable silence as they went through the documents they pilfered.

"In 1756, Nelia H.K. Somerset arrived as a guest at Mystic Hill Manor, the home of Frederick Fairfax, some British aristocrat," She went over her notes. "That July, Fairfax, his family and his entire household were killed at the manor."

Thunder rolled loudly; an appropriately ominous accompaniment, fitting to their discussion. Bonnie shivered.

"_On Friday, 21__st__ July,"_ Damon began to read from the old report, unaffected by the storm, "_a gruesome discovery of the dreadful massacre at Mystic Hill Manor, situated at Mystic Falls, in the county of Virginia, was made. Myself and our fair governor's son, Charles Lockwood, famed for his part in the investigation of the Wickery Horror, are to guide the enquiry. The victims, including four children, their governess, and Lord &amp; Lady Fairfax, were discovered on the 21__st__ instance, at about eight in the morning, by the family's housekeeper...Miss Marie Belle Bennett._"

"Another coincidence to add to our list. My ancestor and Tyler's; both connected to the manor murders."

He rubbed a hand through his hair. "Do we know for sure that this Somerset woman was a vampire?"

Bonnie shuffled through some papers. "According to this, Lady Somerset came to Mystic Falls in May 1756. Right around that time, there were suddenly frequent animal attacks, throats mauled, bodies drained of blood. That's pretty consistent with your vampire MO," She argued and Damon had to agree. "What did the rest of Henry Fell's report say?" She asked and he started reading again.

"..._Miss Bennett somehow survived the bloodletting. Though, thus far, she's been able to shed no light on the identity of the person or persons who visited such terrible violence upon her master's family and their faithful servants. The family's guest, Lady Nelia Somerset is presently missing and does not appear to have been at the manor, at the time of the attack._ Fell and Lockwood found no trace of her after that. She just disappeared."

The vampire pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look Bonnie, let's say Somerset was a vampire. And maybe she was even behind the murders, but what's that got to do with anything going on now? Is there any connection between Somerset and the Mikaelsons?" He said sceptically.

"There has to be," Bonnie insisted. "We just haven't found it yet."

"Bonnie..."

"I'm right about this, Damon. Mystic Hill Manor and the Lockwood's home is the same house." She waved another set of papers at him. "It says here that Charles Lockwood bought the house a month after the murder inquest was closed. Why would he do that? And what about Marie Belle, the only survivor? If something supernatural attacked that family, being a witch, she would have been able to protect herself. It would also explain why she couldn't say anything about the attackers or how she survived. If it came out that she was a witch..."

"All that might be true. But it still doesn't point to the Mikaelsons or explain their interest in Tyler. I'm just saying; we need to stay in the here and now. Why are you so sure that this is all part of the same thing?"

She opened her mouth to respond, but stopped suddenly. Damon elevated his brows at her sudden silence. She stared at the yellowed papers in her hand, ink faded. He had no idea what to make of the tumultuous expression in her mossy green gaze.

"I don't know," She said finally. "That's the truth, Damon. I can't explain it. But I trust my instincts. And what happened at that house, what's happening now... I just have this overwhelming feeling of-" She broke off; iridescent eyes wide with apprehension.

"What?"

"Dread."

The room was plunged into darkness.

XXXX

Bonnie waited in the bedroom while Damon went to find some candles. The storm had taken out the power Stefan said, when he came up to check on them.

To this his brother had politely replied, "_Thank you Captain Obvious_," before he all but shoved Stefan out of the room, and the little witch gave him a sympathetic smile. She knew the younger Salvatore was curious about her sudden affinity for his brother's company. But he was also astute enough to know that Bonnie would confide in him if she wanted to.

They had built a tentative friendship over the past few months, owed largely to their need to work together over the whole fiasco with the tomb. Stefan may not fully trust his brother, but he did trust her.

"_Why do you assume I'm going to hurt Bonnie?" _That was Damon's annoyed voice echoing off the walls, and what was clearly the beginning of an argument.

Bonnie settled on the floor near the foot of Damon's bed. It was half past one now and she was starting to feel the day's events catch up to her. Her entire body felt heavy and her vision was becoming hazy, the edges of the world blurring. The low, harsh murmurs of the brothers arguing grew fainter; Bonnie heard the strains of a piano and began to drift away.

XXXX

Stefan followed Damon to the kitchen. His brother gave no indication that he was even aware of his presence as he puttered around, digging out candles and matches.

"What have you gotten Bonnie mixed up in?" He spoke when it became clear Damon wasn't going to.

The raven-haired vampire smirked. "That would be none of your business, Steffi," He playfully tweaked the end of his brother's nose. Stefan batted his hands away.

"Real cute, Damon. But I'm warning you. Don't drag Bonnie into your games. If you hurt her..."

"What?" All trace of amusement left him. "You know Stefan; I'm getting really sick of your attitude. Why do you assume that I'm going to hurt Bonnie? That I'm always the bad guy?"

"Because all you've done for the last hundred years is leave a trail of misery and destruction."

"You think you've got me all figured out."

"I know you're not happy, unless everyone else is unhappy."

"Not everyone, Stefan. Just you," Damon said bitterly.

"You're reckless," His brother continued. "And it doesn't matter who gets hurt. You don't care who has to pay. I know you, Damon."

"Maybe not as well as you think," Damon said coldly; his cyan eyes darkening in anger at Stefan's accusations. His brother met his gaze evenly, revealing nothing in his shuttered gaze.

"Leave Bonnie alone," He spoke plainly.

"Or what?" He sneered. "What Bonnie and I get up to is between me and her. So stay out of my business, little brother," Damon didn't raise his voice, but that did nothing to soften the underlying threat. "You think you know me so well?" He loomed over Stefan. "Then you know what I'll do if you get in my way."

There was no way of knowing which of them would have been more stubborn. And they weren't ever going to find out. Because just at that moment, they heard the groan of the heavy, oak, front door as it swung open.

The brothers exchanged a look before flashing out to the entrance hall, just in time to see Bonnie disappearing down the drive; moving with the ethereal grace of a dancer as she walked out into the raging tempest.

"What in the h-"

XXXX

_Mid paem wundorcraeft paes ealdan aewb ic pe hate nime Estheres wopdropan ond pa gemengan midhis blod._

"Hello?"

Her voice echoed loudly in the empty hallway.

The first thing Bonnie noticed was how dark the house was. Thick velvet curtains were drawn over the windows with only the dim glow of candles to light the way.

_Sy he under wittig ond deofol seocnes midhis heorte afylb._

Uncertain what to do, she tentatively made her way further down the corridor following the sound of the chanting.

A low rumbling somewhere behind Bonnie caused her to stop. Her entire body tensed, head cocked like a bird as she tried to listen for the sound again. Was that the beating of...wings?

The sound was getting louder, drawing nearer she thought, her heart practically in her throat as she tried to brace herself for whatever was heading this way.

Bonnie ducked as a flock of ravens swept down the passage, passing swiftly over her.

_What the hell was going on?_

Feeling her breathing steady and her heart beat calm; Bonnie continued to follow the chanting.

_Sy he under wittig ond deofol nime Benedictus midhis blod aewb wundorcraeft ic pe libertatem weorc untoworpenlic. _

She was in a large sitting room. Empty wine glasses and an abandoned card game were the remnants of some sort of party. And in the centre of the room, two European men and a beautiful caramel-skinned woman stood around something wrapped in a shroud.

_A body, _Bonnie realised with growing apprehension.

They were dressed in period clothes evocative of the Georgian era. Neither of the three seemed to notice her presence. The men moved to kneel on either side of the body while the woman remained standing, so they were now in a triad formation.

The man closest to Bonnie was dark-haired while his companion...the young witch gasped.

"Klaus?"

He seemed not to hear her. But the woman suddenly turned to look straight at Bonnie, her viridian eyes bearing an uncanny resemblance to the teenager's own emerald orbs.

"It is time," She said stepping towards Bonnie. "You must follow me."

"Follow you where? Who are you?" Bonnie cried, bewildered. But the woman did not answer, simply led the way to an adjacent room. Klaus and the other man had not moved from their kneeling position; they didn't even seem to notice them.

"Hey wait!" Left with no other choice, Bonnie hurried after the woman.

As soon as she left the room, a terrible tremor began to shake the entire house followed by a loud banging.

"_Elijah!_" An unfamiliar voice called. The young witch froze as the dark haired man appeared in the corridor. _"You will not do this! Heed my words: do not forsake everything that has been given to you. Or I will bring down the very __**fires of hell**__ upon you and you will __**beg**__ for death before the end!"_

"_Elijah..." _Klaus joined his half-brother, while Bonnie continued to watch silently; unable to tear her eyes away from her father.

"_We cannot submit to him, brother," _Elijah's voice was low and commanding._ "You and Belle finish it. I will buy you as much time as I can."_

"_If we do this, you will never be safe. He will try to destroy you,"_ Klaus spoke gravely.

"_He can do as he will. They destroyed us a long time ago, Klaus,"_ Elijah said sadly. _"But no matter what adversity we face, we will not betray ourselves to the same darkness. I will not let them take another soul...or die trying. Now go!"_

Bonnie watched Elijah head further into the house while Klaus returned to the drawing room.

"Quickly now!" The woman, Belle, grabbed her hand. "We must hurry!"

With one last glance at Elijah's disappearing form, Bonnie followed the woman as she led her through a maze of corridors.

"I don't understand!" The young witch cried in confusion. "Where are you leading me? How am I even—"

There was a blinding light as Belle tugged her through another doorway.

Bonnie blinked and the scene had changed again.

XXXX

"Bonnie!" Damon called out at the top of his lungs.

A peal of thunder was his only reply.

"Stefan! Anything?"

"Nothing," his brother called back. "And it's getting harder to see in all this fog."

The rain was bad enough. If not for his vampire vision, Damon doubted he would have been able to see more than three feet in front of his face. But just as they were closing in on the little witch, a thick mist seemed to rise out of nowhere and swallowed her up.

"It has to be magic," Stefan said.

Damon silently agreed. Something or someone had lured Bonnie out into the storm. And it clearly didn't want them to find her.

"We should split up," Damon said. "She can't be too far ahead of us."

Stefan looked at his brother worriedly.

"Damon, whatever's behind this, we don't know-"

"We'll cross that bridge if we come to it," He cut his brother off. "Either way, we're not leaving the little witch out here, agreed? So let's not waste time brooding about it. Just find her."

XXXX

She was standing outside, on the front lawn of an oddly familiar colonial style mansion. Glancing at the night sky, Bonnie noticed the moon looked especially bright.

A carriage was coming up the drive and three attendants stood ready to greet it. From inside the mansion, the sound of laughter and conversation drifted out to her, accompanied by a haunting piano melody.

Someone was playing Chopin's Nocturne Op. 9 in B-flat minor.

"Come this way."

A young woman in Victorian clothing suddenly appeared before her. She wore a very familiar crystal amulet.

"Emily?" Bonnie looked at her ancestor in shock.

The other Bennett witch did not wait for Bonnie, leaving her no choice but to follow. Emily kept to the shadows, careful to avoid any of the grounds-men or attending servants. She led them to a set of whitewashed buildings on the edge of the estate. Stables, Bonnie realized. And they were not alone.

There was a man waiting by the west-facing wall, next to an old well. He was a gentleman, judging by the finery of his clothes and Bonnie wondered at the reason for such a clandestine meeting.

"You've risked much, Miss Bennett," The man spoke at their approach. "I know it could not have been easy for you to get here." He did not even look at Bonnie and the younger witch realized that, once more, she was an invisible spectator.

Emily gave a wry smile.

"When you've spent a lifetime running, you learn how to hide in plain sight."

The stranger's expression softened and there was something familiar about his dark eyes.

"It will not always be this way."

"And that is why I have come," She reached into the pocket of her apron and produced a small velvet pouch. "I am trusting you, Mr. Lockwood. To protect and ensure the hope for our future."

Lockwood accepted the small purse, studying it curiously.

"Do not open it," Emily warned. "For you will be drawn by her call."

The gentleman elevated his brow. In the stables, the horses were restless. An icy wind whipped at Bonnie's face and hair, stinging against her cheeks. Whatever that purse contained was immeasurably powerful.

_Bonnie!_ A voice drifted on the air and the witch flinched.

"There is no way to destroy it?"

"No power that I possess. And I have tried."

_Bonnie! _

Her breathing quickened and she could hear her own heart beating loudly in her ears. She felt herself being tugged backwards, as though pulled by an invisible thread. But she wanted to hear the rest of Emily and Lockwood's conversation.

"Then we will continue as we are. And hide this evil where none may ever find it. Where he may never recover it."

"Here," She handed him what looked like an ornate-looking pocket watch. "Guard it carefully. It will help guide you, and all who follow, in the dark days to come."

_Bonnie!_

Light erupted on all sides.

XXXX

Her knees buckled and Bonnie fell forward onto the wet grass. She was trembling, hunched over on all fours, taking shuddering breaths against the tumultuous emotions storming through her heart.

That was how he found her, in the centre of a wooded clearing, on the land bordering the grounds of the boarding house. He touched her shoulder and she screamed, unconsciously releasing a wave of magic that knocked him flat on his back.

"Bonnie, it's alright," The vampire gained his feet. "It's just me, it's Stefan."

"Stefan?" She blinked against the water coating her lashes. Only then did Bonnie realize that it was still raining.

The younger Salvatore crouched down next to her.

"I didn't mean to scare you," He spoke gently. "Are you alright?"

"I...I don't know..." Wide, viridian eyes looked round in shock. "I don't understand...I saw Lockwood..."

"Tyler?"

"No. George Lockwood. And he was...how did I get here?" Her mind was bouncing from one topic to the next. "What I saw...what was that, Stefan? What was that?!"

He shook his head helplessly.

"I don't know Bonnie. You wandered out into the storm. Damon and I came after you. I think you were enchanted."

The young witch looked enlightened; something between alarm and excitement shining in her eyes.

"Yes, I was in some kind of trance. The last thing I remember is hearing you and your brother arguing. I was falling asleep; there was music...a piano. And then I was somewhere else...Stefan, I saw my father!"

She was getting excited now, words tumbling out, quick as lightening as she tried to explain what she had seen. He could hear her heart rate increase, the blood rushing through her veins as the adrenaline kicked in. But Stefan was beginning to worry that she was in danger of getting hypothermia. Throughout her speech, Bonnie had not stopped shivering with cold. She had been out in the storm too long and he had no idea what to make of her ramblings. But they could figure that out later.

"Bonnie, we need to get you back to the boarding house," He said kindly, when she finally stopped for breath. "We can talk more there. But you can't stay out here. Come on," He helped the young witch up.

The minute she was on her feet, a painful cry ripped from her throat. She bit her bottom lip, trying hard to stave off the tears burning in her eyes, and sagged against Stefan heavily; clutching him with a bruising strength he did not expect from the teenage girl. Alarmed, the vampire immediately started checking her over to see where she was hurt.

That's when he noticed that she was barefoot and bleeding.

In her enchanted state, Bonnie had not been conscious of where she stepped. Unable to avoid the sharp brambles and jagged stones as she wandered across the wooded area, her feet had been badly torn.

Stefan scooped her up without hesitation and then took off in the direction of the boarding house.

As the mist finally cleared, he could see his brother ahead of them, also making his way up the drive. Damon's eyes narrowed at the sight of Stefan cradling Bonnie. The adrenalin finally seemed to be wearing off and exhaustion was setting in. She was still shivering when Stefan handed her over to the raven-haired vampire.

"She can't walk," was all he said.

Damon nodded slightly, knowing that Stefan was struggling to be around a bleeding Bonnie. The blood from her wounded feet was singing to him and he was used to a regular diet of A-negative. He could only imagine what it was doing to his little brother.

Damon didn't say anything as he carried her into the living room, setting her down on the sofa. But when he got a good look at the state of her feet, his eyes widened in that way that made him look almost feral.

"Of all the stubborn, infuriating, idiotic females...damn it, Bonnie," he snarled. And then stormed out of the room.

The witch stared dumbfounded at the empty living room. "Talk about infuriating," She muttered. "Yell at me and then stomp away as if I've been a naughty child. Heartless. Insensitive. Mean. Rude."

She would have continued listing Damon's negative qualities, but he returned just then. She knew he had to have heard her.

Damon had brought with him a box of band-aids, a bottle of antiseptic wash, and some gauze.

"Oh," Bonnie said, when she saw he was planning to help her. She idly wondered what a vampire was doing with first aid supplies.

Damon didn't look at her as he started to prepare the supplies. He poured some of the antiseptic wash onto a piece of the gauze.

Bonnie reached to take it from him, but before she could, he knelt down next to the sofa, took her ankle in his hand, and started treating her injuries himself.

There was no rational reason for it. She couldn't explain it if she tried. But it was all wrong. Damon's cool hand on her bare ankle. His submissive position before her. It wasn't right and she could feel her panic mounting.

She was disoriented and upset, her feet were killing her. And now Damon was confusing her further with his inexplicable gesture of kindness. It was too much. Through all the chaos and painful revelations of the last few days, hell, in the last few hours, one truth had remained unchanged. But now, even that seemed to be shifting beneath her feet.

What was Damon doing? Because this surely wasn't them.

Frantically, Bonnie tried to pull away from him and nearly toppled off the sofa in the process.

Her actions backfired spectacularly. Damon jumped up in time to steady her and now his arm was around her waist. "What the hell, Bonnie?" he roared. "What are you trying to do?"

She wriggled until he let her go. She needed to have some distance between them.

"I'm not one of your women!" She snapped at him, irrationally. "I can do it myself," She hated the way her voice went up several decibels.

"Well you aren't going to do it yourself," Damon grated through clenched teeth. He was furious and stressed and at the end of what modest patience he had. "You're damn well going to suffer my touch long enough for me to make sure you don't get an infection. I'm not making a move on you so there's no need to behave like an outraged virgin. Now sit still and stop acting like a lunatic." He knelt back down on the carpet and started applying the antiseptic, which burned against her wounds.

But Bonnie didn't utter so much as a whimper.

She was thoroughly chastised and embarrassed, feeling like an idiot for her overreaction. Damon focused on her feet, covering her right foot with band-aids and started working on her other foot. Bonnie used his pre-occupation to try and get herself together, concentrating on the physical pain as something to help centre her thoughts.

"Thank you," She choked out, when he finally put on the last band-aid. Damon got to his feet and flashed out of the room again. He returned this time with a set of towels, an old sweatshirt and a pair of boxers. Bonnie took the items and started to head for the bathroom before she realized she didn't know the way.

"Where's the-?"

"Second door on the right," Damon said. "But you shouldn't be walking on your feet yet. I'll carry you."

She didn't have a chance to protest as Damon flashed them over to the downstairs bathroom. Bonnie had her hand on the door knob, when she was stopped by the vampire's hand on her shoulder. He turned her around until she was facing him. "Judgey," he said, in a low voice.

Taking a deep breath, Bonnie made herself meet his eyes. She wouldn't let herself be a coward. "I'm sorry," she admitted, and Damon's eyebrows nearly flew off his forehead in surprise. "I was a little...hysterical. But I'm calm now."

He moved in closer, held her chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting her head up toward his as he peered into her chartreuse eyes.

"You're kind of giving me whiplash here, Bon-bon."

Damon released her chin.

"I know exactly how little you think of me. I know you'd rather be doing this with someone, anyone else. But we had a deal. We're in this together. That means we have to help each other."

She nodded slowly, almost mesmerized by the intense look in his eyes. Damon was right. The whole point of this partnership was for them to work together. If she kept fighting him on every little thing, they would wear themselves out. Not to mention, it was extremely counter-productive.

"I'm sorry," She repeated. "And you're right. We don't have to be best friends or anything, but we are on the same team. I'll try to start acting more like it."

Bonnie frowned at Damon. The vampire walked away without a word.

"What are you doing?" She said, as he made a big show of peering out the stained glass windows. It was still raining.

"Just checking for any pigs flying. Or maybe a swarm of locusts. Because Bonnie Bennett admitting I was right and apologizing all in the same night? That must signal the end of days," He smirked.

Now they were back in familiar territory. Bonnie started to feel a little better.

"I'll arrange the ice-skating party in hell," She quipped, adding, "But don't get used to it, bloodsucker," as she ducked into the bathroom and Damon complained,

"Don't nickname, Judgey. That's my thing!"

XXXX

Bonnie woke up thinking she was being smothered.

It felt like a suffocating weight was pressed mercilessly onto her face. Instinctively pushing back against it, she froze when she heard an answering moan. Her eyes snapped open.

It was Damon.

More specifically, Damon Salvatore's belly, had been pressed into her face and was still smashed up against her cheek.

Bonnie felt her cheeks burn and she prayed Damon wouldn't wake up as she tried to untangle them.

After Bonnie had finished getting changed, they'd spent the rest of the night talking over what had happened to her. She had told him all about the two strange visions she had of her ancestors, seeing Elijah and Klaus. At some point, they must have fallen asleep together on the sofa.

Bonnie knew she had a tendency to move around a lot in her sleep. She must have rolled over to face Damon, and somehow ended up halfway down his body. At some point, Bonnie assumed that she had tried to roll onto her back , but Damon had rolled with her until he was lying basically on top of her.

"Good morning."

All thoughts of discreetly moving away from Damon were abandoned.

Bonnie practically flew off the couch, landing with a loud thud, to see Stefan watching her with an amused smile. And now Damon was starting to wake up.

He rubbed a hand over his face, still not entirely lucid, as he reached blindly for the comforting warmth he'd been enveloped in moments before.

"Bonnie," He grumbled, pouting slightly. "Come back to b—"

She looked at the raven-haired vampire like he'd grown a second head. Damon, for his part, looked equally shocked by what he'd almost said. He was fully awake now and his eyes were so wide, Bonnie feared they might fall out.

The awkward silence becoming too much, she scrambled to her feet, muttering something about needing the bathroom.

When she emerged a short while later, having freshened up a little and finally willing down the tell-tale blush in her cheeks, she found Stefan on his own in the kitchen.

He slid a cup of coffee across the table to her which she gratefully accepted.

"So," Stefan began conversationally. "You and my brother..."

"We're working on something to help Tyler," She said.

The younger Salvatore made a contemplative noise.

"You're working together, sleeping together," He ignored Bonnie's glare, "Should I expect a happy announcement by the end of the day?"

"You're a regular comedian. You should take your show on the road."

"Only if you agree to be my supporting act," He winked at her playfully.

"No can do, little brother," Damon joined the conversation suddenly. "Bon-bon is already contractually obligated to yours truly."

He strode into the kitchen, freshly showered, and appeared completely relaxed. All trace of his earlier embarrassment vanished. Bonnie was relieved. If he was happy to ignore the fact they had woken up in an awkward and rather compromising position, she wasn't going to complain.

She grimaced slightly and looked away awkwardly as Damon poured himself a cup of blood. He gave her a challenging look.

"Still squeamish huh?" He sounded amused. "Even after you let—"

Her mobile chose that moment to ring, cutting Damon off. She smiled when she saw who the caller was.

'Saved by the bell' He mouthed at her. Bonnie rolled her eyes. They were on the same team but he could still be a real ass.

"Klaus!" Both vampires were suddenly very interested in this phone call. "I'm so glad you called."

"_How are you, love?""_

"There've been some...developments," Bonnie chose her words carefully, mindful of her audience.

"_Are you alright? Are you safe?"_ His voice immediately became concerned.

"I'm fine," She assured her...uncle. Wow. She was still getting used to that. "But there are some things I need to talk to you about."

Her gaze locked with Damon's then, and Stefan watched as his brother seemed to have a silent conversation with Bonnie. This was something to do with what Bonnie claimed they were working on.

"_That sounds serious, love. And I promise we can catch up as soon as I've returned. But for the moment, that discussion will have to wait. I have some news for you, about your friend."_

"Tyler?" She was suddenly filled with trepidation. But still, she hoped...

"_Young Mr. Lockwood is alive,"_ Klaus confirmed. And Bonnie released a breath she didn't realize she had been holding.

"Oh thank god."

"_I found out the location where Henrik's been holding him,"_ Klaus continued. _"I will need a few hours. Then I shall endeavour to retrieve him."_

"Tell me where. I'll meet you," Bonnie said immediately.

"_I appreciate that love, but I think it best you sit this one out."_

"Tyler's my friend," She said stubbornly. "And I'm a witch. I can help. What is it with everyone thinking I need to be coddled?"

Damon raised his eyebrows at Bonnie's increasingly annoyed tone, and smirked into his cup. A part of him couldn't help feeling a bit smug. Let's see how White Fang dealt with being at the receiving end of his little witch's ire.

"_Bonnie, I know better than anyone the greatness you are capable of."_

Smooth, Damon thought, annoyed.

"_But we need to be strategic about this. Henrik could have killed you that night in the woods. That he didn't tells me that he means to take you alive. If you join me, we will be playing directly into his hands. And I would rather make him work much harder for the privilege of your company. Don't you think so, love?"_

Bonnie grumbled her agreement, but she couldn't deny that Klaus was speaking sense. This was news to the Salvatore brothers however.

Damon hadn't really given much thought to what Henrik's endgame had been that night. He just wanted the bastard to pay for trying to end him. But looking back, it did seem that he was toying with Bonnie when it would have been so easy to take her life.

Stefan, on the other hand, was beginning to suspect that Damon had left out some crucial details when he told them what had transpired.

"But Klaus," Bonnie's voice snapped both vampires back to the here and now. "If Henrik, is that dangerous, you can't go in there alone."

"_Oh I know, love,"_ She could hear the smirk in his voice. _"And believe me, I don't plan to." _

**TBC**

* * *

**AN 2: **So how'd I do? I'm trying to develop the Bonnie/Damon relationship in a natural and realistic way. This chapter was supposed to be another turning point of sorts for them. I hope I was at least half-way successful at that.

Also, quick question: would you prefer shorter updates, with more frequent posts? Or longer updates, that take longer to post?

Leave me a review or PM to tell me your preference.

Thanks for reading!


	8. Am I or Are the Others Crazy

**Author's Note: **It's been about 100 years since my last update...I am so sorry! I'm swamped at the moment and my Internet's been down - sometimes I really hate technology. But I'm hoping two new updates will start to make up for it.

I've decided to go for slightly shorter chapters: anywhere from 2000-5000 words, depending on where I feel the natural breaks in the story are. This will be more manageable for me and should provide more regular updates for you.

Thank you all so much for being insanely generous towards me. I hope I can continue to earn your good will.

**Disclaimer: **I still own absolutely nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

**7**

**AM I OR ARE THE OTHERS CRAZY**

A piercing wail tore through the halls of Lockwood Manor and the eerie calm was shattered.

As a child, these corridors had been her playground: the little alcove under the stairs had been her favourite spot for Hide-and-Seek, and Tyler had chased her and Caroline across this very hallway, the three of them screeching with laughter at their game.

But now, in the hours before dawn, the darkened hallways felt alien and threatening. She swallowed hard. Her knuckles had turned white; she was clutching the wooden stake so tightly. A sudden thud sounded on the upper level and Bonnie tensed. She forced herself to keep moving towards the noise. She would not cower before this demon.

The deeper she went into the house, the thicker the stench of death and blood became. She feared she might choke on it. Slowly, she turned the polished door handle, her heartbeat roaring in her ears.

They were dead. All of them.

The girls' bonnet strings were wet with blood, the boys' collars stained. A deep gash in their throats was crusted with dry blood, standing out starkly against their ashen complexions. Beside the four children, their mother rested; eyes no longer seeing, staring blankly at the ceiling; her raven tresses done up in that elaborate bouffant style that was characteristic of the era. She was still bleeding out, her life force pooling beneath her in a dark, congealing mess.

And in the furthest corner of the room, the demon crouched; the most horrific sucking noises echoing against the floral-papered walls, as she continued to drain the father, her last victim.

"Stop."

The predator froze.

"On your feet," Bonnie commanded, willing her heartbeat to remain steady and not betray her fear. The vampire did as she was told, standing with her back to Bonnie, hands hanging limply at her sides.

"Turn around, slowly," Bonnie's fingers tightened around the stake in her hand.

Her muscles tensed in preparation, ready to strike as she finally met the bright, viridian, gaze of her enemy; silver veins prominent against her temples, her own bow-shaped mouth, stained with blood, and curled into a mocking smile.

The stake clattered to the ground.

Bonnie screamed as the vampire with her face attacked her, fangs slicing into the skin of her throat.

"You will never be rid of me," the vampire breathed, in a voice Bonnie recognised as her own. "We're the same, you and I."

She blinked and suddenly the monster was gone. Bonnie struggled to her feet, desperate to get out of that room, to get away before the vampire returned. But all progress came to a grinding halt, as she stood frozen in front of the hallway mirror; fascinated and horrified by the reflected image of silvered veins and protruding fangs that dripped with blood...

** XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

She woke up crying; her skin sticky and damp with hot tears. And a shrill ringing in her ears.

It took a moment for Bonnie to realise that the ringing wasn't actually in her head, but belonged to her mobile. She had an incoming call and it was the tinny ringtone that had probably roused her from her nightmare.

The ringing finally stopped and Bonnie fell back against her pillows, trying to calm her still racing heart. At least she hadn't set fire to her curtains again.

Night horrors were nothing new to Bonnie; in fact they'd been happening with greater frequency the last few weeks - ever since she got back from her failed excursion with Damon. But this was the first time a dream had affected her to the point that she was in tears.

Bonnie hated it.

She absolutely hated feeling like a scared, shaky, out of control mess. She could feel the tears rising again, and she tried hard to get herself under control, not wanting Grams to hear her and then discover her in this state. After a few minutes, desperately willing the visions from her nightmare away, she felt better and climbed out of bed. Bonnie winced slightly at the dull pain that shot up her leg. The wounds on her feet had already begun to heal; the deep gashes in her skin stitching back together. She had even been able to remove the bandages last night. But there was still some mild discomfort any time she put pressure on her feet. Gingerly, she took a few steps towards the connecting bathroom, when a sharp rapping nearly made her jump out of her skin.

Her magic flared and the curtain was flung aside to reveal the twinkling blue eyes and signature smirk of her least favourite vampire, watching her from the other side of the window.

"Morning sunshine," He winked at her, casually leaning out from his perch on the overhanging oak tree. It was a wonder he hadn't fallen, but then vampires probably had superior balance.

"What the hell are you doing here, Damon?" She was incredulous.

She and the elder Salvatore hadn't made any immediate plans to meet up. They had last seen each other the previous morning, at the boarding house. Stefan had dropped her off at Matt's, and she'd spent the rest of the morning on his sofa; watching cartoons, eating lucky charms and playing Halo.

When Matt left for his shift at the Grill, Bonnie had gone to the library to see if she could dig up anything else on Nelia H.K. Somerset, and finish the rest of her weekend homework. She had poured over town records and history books till she thought her eyes would bleed, but yet again, found nothing concrete. After that she'd gone home to have a quiet evening with Grams.

The vampire frowned.

"You know, you could look a little happier to see me. We are partners now. Or did you forget?" He pouted playfully. "It's a good thing I have such a healthy ego. Otherwise you might be in danger of hurting my feelings, Judgey."

Bonnie let out a very unladylike snort. "Please. Like it's ever mattered to you, what I think."

Something odd flickered in Damon's eyes then, before he remembered to shutter his gaze.

"That still doesn't explain why you're here, perched outside my window, like some peeping tom," She continued.

Damon wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, azure eyes sparkling with mischief. Bonnie merely rolled her eyes at his antics.

"If I'm here, it's your fault," He fired back. "I wouldn't have had to climb up here, if you'd just answer your damn phone," He huffed.

Bonnie threw him a confused look before darting over to retrieve her mobile; the little device resting innocuously on her bedside table. Sure enough, that last call had been from Damon, along with a stream of text messages before it.

Her green eyes widened.

"Fifteen texts?" She stared at him.

"I don't like being ignored, Bonnie," He replied haughtily.

"I wasn't ignoring you, Damon, I was sleeping."

And dreaming, she thought. Horrible, horrible dreams. The image of her own eyes, bright with bloodlust, fangs descending, rose in her mind's eye.

Her chest tightened painfully at such a vivid reminder and the mobile slipped from her hand. Bonnie caught herself in time but inwardly cringed as she saw her little moment had not gone unnoticed.

The raven-haired vampire was watching her intently, and she didn't like the assessing look in his eyes. She needed to wrap this up quickly.

"Listen, we've got about two more minutes before my Grams senses I've got a supernatural visitor," She rambled, "so what is this about, Damon?"

He shook his head.

"Come outside and we'll talk."

"Damon..."

"I'm parked a few blocks down the street. You've got twenty minutes, Judgey, or I'll be taking you up on that peeping tom idea," He smirked lecherously and then he was gone.

Not a moment too soon as it turned out.

"Bonnie?" Grams voice sounded.

"Grams!" The girl startled, spinning round to see Sheila standing in the doorway.

"I thought I heard voices."

"Uh..." Bonnie's thoughts were flying as she tried to come up with a convincing answer. "I was on the phone...with Caroline," She added hastily. "She wanted to talk, you know, about...Tyler."

Sheila's gaze softened at the mention of the Lockwood boy.

"Of course. This whole thing must be a terrible nightmare for Carol and Richard. And Caroline. Have you told her about Klaus' news, yet?"

"No," Bonnie admitted, with a pang of guilt. "I thought it might be better to wait till Klaus actually has him. I just...I know Klaus will do everything he can. But just in case, if something happens..."

"You'd rather not get her hopes up," Sheila finished. "You want to protect her. That's understandable, Bonnie." The older Bennett witch ran a hand through her curls, her expression thoughtful. "Klaus is more than capable," She said finally. "He'll find a way to get Tyler out safely."

"I hope so," There was an awkward silence. Sheila seemed to be hesitating about something.

She and her grandmother hadn't done a lot of talking lately, beyond what was considered polite. She didn't like it, but she also couldn't deny that she was still a little upset. She needed time to process everything, and she was grateful that her Grams seemed to recognise this and had been giving her some space.

"Bonnie, you know I hate to leave you on your own," Sheila's voice cut into her thoughts. "But a friend of mine, over in Philly, is not doing too good. She doesn't have any family around anymore, so I'm gonna go check on her. I've already called the college to explain that I'll be gone for the week. I'll be heading out after lunch, and I'll be back on Friday, I promise."

"It's alright, Grams."

"I'm sorry, baby. I'd have you come with, but I don't want you missing school. If you like though, you can have Matt stay over, keep you company."

Bonnie gave a small smile at that. Matt Donovan was probably the only boy, in all of Virginia State that her Grams would allow to spend the night, unsupervised.

"You sure you'll be okay on your own? I know this isn't the best time...with everything."

"I'll be fine, Grams. I'll ask Matt to hang out for a few days – he'll probably get a kick out of making me cook for him," She chuckled slightly.

Sheila arched a carefully sculpted brow, an impish gleam in her brown eyes.

"Don't no Bennett woman do nothin' for a man, tha' she don't want to," Grams winked and then Bonnie really did smile.

"Really, Grams. I'm okay on my own. I'm not a little girl anymore."

"Baby," Sheila's tone was affectionate and slightly nostalgic, "you'll always be my little girl."

She kissed Bonnie's forehead and playfully tugged on the end of her ponytail, like she would when Bonnie was younger. And with that simple gesture, both Bennetts felt some of the tension that had been lingering over the past week, start to ease.

"Well, I'm still here till lunch," Grams smiled. "How about we whip up a batch of your favourite cookies? We could make it together."

"Uh actually, I sort of promised...Caroline...that I'd head over there," Bonnie said apologetically. "Is that okay?"

Sheila waved her off good naturedly.

"Of course, baby. I'm sure she'll feel better for talking with you," Grams smiled easily. "Give Caroline my love and a squeeze, ok?" Bonnie had to fight to keep a straight face at the thought of what Grams was saying, considering who _Caroline_ actually was. "But maybe you could pop back at lunch? I'd like us to eat together before I hit the road."

"I'd like that."

** XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Damon was parked on the curb in front of Reverend Daniels' house. The irony was not lost on him.

Bonnie slipped into the front passenger seat and grimaced as she caught the vampire taking a swig of something that definitely was not alcohol.

"Do you have to do that here?" She complained.

"My car, my rules," Damon replaced the cap on the flask with a snap, his tongue snaking out to lick at a stray drop of blood. "Besides, it's nothing you haven't seen before...and then some."

"Whatever," She shrugged dismissively, hoping he didn't notice the nervous edge in her voice. This line of conversation could lead nowhere good.

"Really showing your age there, Bon-bon."

"Are you going to tell me why you were, quite literally, hanging outside my window, or not?" She snapped back.

"Maybe I just like the view," He smirked. She wasn't impressed.

"Damon, I'm going to count to one. And then I'm getting out of this piece of tin."

"Hey! Say whatever you want about me, but leave my baby out of it."

"One!"

"I wanted to know if you'd heard back from Klaus," He said quickly, halting her move to climb out of the Camaro.

"That's it? That's what those fifteen texts were for?" Bonnie was giving him that look again. The you-are-an-idiot–and-I'm-about-to-make-your-head-explode patented glare. "You wanted to know if Klaus, who we heard from yesterday, had checked in yet? That's what was so urgent?"

"In my defence, I never said anything about it being urgent. I can't help what you inferred."

"And all those texts?"

"I told you. I don't like being ignored. And I may have been a little bored."

"So go find Elena. She'll be happy to let you play fetch."

Damon glared at her and Bonnie smiled back sweetly. She felt a little guilty for saying that about her friend. But Elena had been bouncing between the two brothers for nearly two years which, admittedly, Bonnie thought was kind of tacky. She couldn't deny she'd lost some respect for Elena after seeing the way she behaved with the Salvatores. It was the first time she realized her friend had an ugly selfish streak.

Granted, that wasn't the only side to Elena. She could be sweet and compassionate and kind. But lately, more and more, that selfishness seemed to be the dominating facet of her personality. And the vampire brothers were collateral casualties.

Damon had brought it on himself by sticking his nose where it didn't belong, and going after a girl that was already taken. But Stefan really had deserved better and he'd drawn the short straw. Still, the fact that he'd recognised a bad situation and had the courage to walk away, had him going up in Bonnie's esteem just that little bit more. She'd silently cheered for him. _Good for you Stefan. You deserve to have someone's whole heart, unreservedly, and you know it, _she'd thought, when Elena told her and Caroline about the break-up; a sentiment she hadn't tried too hard to hide from the pretty brunette.

But Bonnie had always been blunt to a fault. Whatever loyalty and affection she had for her friends, it didn't blind her to their flaws. Although Elena hadn't quite appreciated this perspective, and things had grown cooler between the two girls of late as a result. At this point, however, Bonnie had too much on her plate to bother with trivial girl drama that would likely blow over of its own accord.

"She's doing something with Jenna," Damon's annoyed voice snapped her from her musings.

His cerulean gaze hardened and the underlying edge in his tone told the witch that, he'd probably approached Elena, but she'd shot him down. She wondered if he'd ever grow tired of being led on a merry chase. But the vampire's love life was none of her concern. That was a mess she wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole.

"Lucky you," He continued, arrogant mask firmly back in place, "that means you get to entertain me."

"I think I could survive the deprivation," Bonnie dead-panned.

"Oh come on, Judgey," He cajoled. "Our little intrigue is the only interesting thing going in this town. And Bored Damon is Bad Damon. You know what I'm like. Do you really want the blood of all those co-eds; the deflowered virgins robbed of their innocence, by a miscreant like me on your hands?" He said dramatically, batting his long, dark lashes for added effect.

"You're not seriously trying to guilt-trip me into keeping you company?" Her emerald eyes narrowed.

"You're the one with the saviour complex. I might as well take advantage of it."

Bonnie rolled her eyes and prayed for patience.

"Lucky for you," She threw his words back at him, "I've actually thought of something productive for us to do." The idea had occurred to her when she'd been talking to Grams about her blonde friend.

"We should talk to Caroline," She declared.

"What in the hell good is that going to do?" Damon looked at her like she'd just announced she wanted to become a porn star. "The only things in that girl's head are cheers for spirit squad, and what colour to paint her nails."

"Don't talk about Caroline like that," Bonnie smacked his shoulder.

And to Damon's utter surprise, it actually hurt.

"What?" She frowned as he stared at her strangely.

"You hurt me."

"So what? You're practically invulnerable to harm," She didn't understand what the big deal was.

"But that's what I mean. You _hurt _me," He emphasized.

"What?" Bonnie's voice was suddenly very small; her viridian orbs shining with alarm and apprehension.

"You're strong," Damon explained. "Not as strong as a vampire, you're only half vamp after all. But still strong enough to pack a punch, and stronger than any human would be. Guess that's something else you inherited from Elijah."

She shut down. Damon actually saw it happen. Her eyes shuttered, gaze suddenly distant, and her expression became startlingly blank. In the time Damon had known the witch, he'd never seen her like that. Bonnie was like a silent movie actress – you read everything on her face. But now, she'd put a wall up and something he'd said had triggered it.

Abruptly, the girl in question turned away from him, nearly ripping the seatbelt out of its holding as she tugged it into place. She absolutely would not lose her composure now, in front of Damon, she told herself, even as she could feel the panic rising.

_We are the same, you and I;_ she heard the voice of vampire Bonnie from her dreams.

"What's the matter?" Damon's voice pierced the mire of her thoughts. He didn't sound overly concerned, just matter of fact.

"Nothing. I'm fine," She twisted her fingers in her lap.

"Bullshit. What happened to you just now? I mentioned your father and you freake—"

"I said it was nothing, Damon. So just drop it," Bonnie inwardly winced at the sharpness in her tone. So much for keeping her composure. She stole a glance at the vampire and the look on his face clearly said he didn't believe her.

"Bonnie," He started, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "I know that finding out about Elijah, dealing with what you are, it's been a lot."

"So now you think you know me," She challenged.

"I'm getting there," Bonnie was taken aback by his sincerity but there was no way she was having this conversation.

"Look Damon," She forced down the chaotic emotions threatening to erupt, and tried for a casual smile. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you're the absolute last person I'd go to about family issues. I'm fine," She repeated, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "Now are you gonna drive, or would you like me to get out and push?"

Seeing that any attempt to pursue the subject would not be welcome, Damon put the Camaro into drive.

He'd let it go for now.

Bonnie was a good actress, he'd give her that. But unfortunately for her, he'd been playing this game one hundred and twenty eight whole years longer than she had. He didn't buy her casual dismissal for a second. Because he recognised that look on her face.

It was the same one he practised himself.

** XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"This is a waste of time," Damon argued as they stood at the base of the steps, leading to the Forbes' front porch.

"Caroline said Tyler and his parents didn't have the best relationship. He obviously talked to her about his family. Maybe his immediate relatives weren't the only family they discussed," Bonnie reasoned.

Damon snorted.

"They're two hormonal teenagers. I doubt they spent a whole lotta time discussing anything."

The witch made a face.

"Thank you, Damon, for that wonderful mental image."

He sniggered. Whatever inner conflict Bonnie had been wrestling with in the car, she'd evidently decided to shelve it for the time being and was back to business as usual. The little witch was nothing if not practical.

"I know it's a long shot," She continued, "but it's the only lead we've got."

"Until Klaus gets Lockwood back, anyway."

"Yes, but we have no idea what state Tyler will be in. If he'll even be able to tell us anything," She worried her full lower lip between her teeth.

Bonnie wasn't naive enough to think that Henrik had just kept Tyler locked up in a cell all week. He would have interrogated him, using any means necessary. God, she hoped Tyler would come through it all okay. "I don't think we should rely too heavily on Tyler, especially after what he'll have been through. So we need to try and stay on top of this."

"Whatever this is," Damon griped. It was frustrating as hell to have these tiny fragments; small pieces that fit together; but still be no closer to seeing the whole picture.

"And I still don't think shooting the breeze with Blondie is gonna give us anything useful," He added grumpily.

"That's where you're wrong," Bonnie smirked, she actually smirked at him. "The grape vine starts and ends with her. Even when Caroline's not deliberately nosing for gossip, she finds it. If Tyler didn't talk to her about it, maybe she overheard something that could help us. But if you think it's such a waste of time, you can always just wait in the car. In fact," the witch turned thoughtful, "maybe it'd be better all round if you didn't come in with me, given what happened last time."

"You mean her going off on me for no reason? In my own house?"

Bonnie shot him a pleading look.

"Cut her some slack, Damon. Her boyfriend's missing. She was upset and you made an easy scapegoat. I know there's no love lost between the two of you, but just, don't make any waves."

"I'll behave if she does," He retorted like a petulant child.

"Damon," She fixed him with a stern glare. "Pissing Caroline off gets us nothing. We have enough enemies. Let's not alienate the friends we do have."

The vampire huffed, looking for all the world like a six year old that had been denied the toy he wanted.

"Fine," He conceded. "I'll try to be less...well, myself. Now can we get this show on the road?"

He bounded up the stairs ahead of her and gleefully pressed the doorbell. To say Caroline was unhappy to see him was a gross understatement.

"I'm not letting him in here," the blonde was practically spitting nails. "And what the hell are you doing with him, Bon?" She turned incredulous eyes on her best friend.

"Care, I, _we_," She amended as Damon not so subtly cleared his throat, "need your help."

"Well you can forget it," Caroline huffed with a toss of her blonde curls, "there's no way I'm doing anything for this selfish dick," She said acidly. "Is it any wonder Elena still prefers Stefan? Even after he dumped her."

Bonnie cringed and she actually felt the wave of rage sweeping through Damon. His eyes turned red, the veins on his face were rippling, and there was an unmistakeable tic in his jaw. He looked like he wanted to claw Caroline's eyes out.

"You little bitch," He took a threatening step towards her only to feel a firm grip on his elbow, restraining him. He traced the hand back to its owner and was met with a pair of deep jade, iridescent eyes watching him.

"Please," the little witch murmured softly. His face held no emotion but his anger was evident in his crimson eyes. Bonnie knew she had just done something monumentally stupid. Damon's anger was volatile and unpredictable, and just as easily turned on her. But she didn't withdraw from him.

The silence continued for a long moment and Damon continued to stare at Bonnie blankly. Caroline had no idea what to make of this exchange between the vampire and her friend. When his vampire face faded away, Bonnie breathed a sigh of relief. His gaze slid over to her hand still on him but instead of shaking her off he merely lowered his arm and walked away from her.

"We can talk out here," He said, leaning casually against the porch railing. "Bonnie can use her juju to make sure no-one overhears us. Answer what we ask, and you and I won't have a problem, Barbie," He finished bluntly.

'We?' Caroline thought bewildered. She still didn't understand what had just transpired.

"Care, please," Bonnie tried when her friend made no move to join them on the porch. "Forget about Damon for a minute," the vampire in question stood with his head lowered and gave no sign that he was even following their conversation. "This is about Tyler."

"Tyler?" Caroline was instantly alert. "Have you heard something, Bon? Is it good news?" Her voice was breathless with nerves and excitement.

"Tyler's alive," Bonnie decided she had to give the poor girl something. "That's all we know right now. Klaus is still working on his location," She added vaguely.

"But he's alive," Caroline repeated, eyes shining with tears of relief, "he's alive. Oh I have to tell Mrs. Lockwood—"

"No Care," Bonnie said quickly. "That'll lead to too many questions, that none of us can answer. It's best if you keep it to yourself for now."

"Alright, Bon, I guess that makes sense," Caroline agreed. "But you said you think I can help?"

Damon snorted.

"We're trying to work out why Henrik took Tyler," Bonnie ignored the vampire. "If we know what he wants, it could help us get him back," Bonnie explained. "Did Tyler ever say anything to you about his family? Or the Lockwood house? Any funny or unusual stories?"

Caroline frowned. "Sorry Bon. Tyler talked to me about his parents, but that's all. I mean you know what he's like. Not exactly a history buff, even when it's his own personal history."

Damon looked up then and gave Bonnie a smug smile.

"Although..." Caroline paused as she seemed to be recalling a memory. "There was one thing. You remember Tyler's uncle, Mason Lockwood?"

"Vaguely."

"Well he and Tyler are really close. I think he's been more of a dad to Tyler than Richard, and Ty worships him."

"That's right," Bonnie said, realization dawning. "I remember when we were like seven; Tyler always talked about his cool Uncle Mason. And how he'd found some ancient pharaoh's tomb or discovered a new dinosaur skeleton or something. He's an archaeologist. Tyler was always showing off the cool stuff his uncle brought back for him, from his travels all over the world. You even smashed ice scream in his face that one time, because he just wouldn't shut up!"

Caroline nodded; a small smile on her face at the memory Bonnie's words evoked.

A clear, Spring day.

Taking advantage of the pleasant weather, Sheila Bennett had taken the three children out to the park. She'd bought them each an ice cream cone when Tyler had started on his favourite topic: Uncle Mason. This had sparked an argument, because Caroline thought her mommy was much cooler than Tyler's uncle.

The two seven year olds went back and forth until Caroline, her blonde pigtails bobbing determinedly, decided there was only one way to settle things: she snatched Tyler's chocolate ice cream and shoved it in his face.

The little boy had frozen in shock at the cold treat suddenly smashed against his nose. Bonnie, ever the peacemaker, had averted further crisis by giving him her hanky to wipe the sticky mess up. Then she shared her ice cream with him, since they both liked chocolate. They'd been laughing together two minutes later, while Tyler chased the girls round the pond threatening to feed them "to the ducky monster!"

It seemed like a whole other life.

"Much as I'm fascinated by the tales of toddlers," Damon interrupted impatiently, "Could we skip ahead to the part that's actually relevant?"

"Well, I was saying," Caroline glared at the vampire, "about a month ago, Mason was visiting in Mystic Falls. It was the night of the Historical Society's benefit; Mrs. Lockwood was in charge of organising it, and I was helping out. Anyway, I overheard him having an argument with Tyler's dad. Something to do with an inheritance, I think; they were talking about some family heirloom. Mason stormed off. Two days later, he came to see Tyler. He was upset about something, he almost seemed scared. He gave Tyler an envelope and told him to take it to a guy, Joseph Bell, if Tyler didn't hear back from Mason by the end of this month. I didn't think anything of it at the time." Caroline looked alarmed.

"There's a surprise," Damon snarked. He shut up though at Bonnie's warning look, but not without returning her glare with a scowl of his own. Again, the exchange was not missed by Caroline, who wondered what exactly was cooking between the two.

"Do you think this could have something to do with Tyler? With why he was taken?" She said finally, ignoring the sulking vampire.

"It's possible," Bonnie said quietly, her mind turning over what Caroline had just told them. So Mason Lockwood had been in trouble. And now his nephew, who Mason had entrusted with something, had been kidnapped by the Mikaelsons. There were far too many coincidences for Bonnie's liking and that sense of dread pricked at her heart again.

"Care; do you know what was in the envelope?" She said.

"No, but I can find out."

The witch's eyebrows elevated, and for the first time since she'd started talking, Damon actually looked at the blonde.

"How?"

"Mason told Tyler to keep it someplace safe," Caroline suddenly looked very pleased with herself, "so Tyler gave it to me to look after. I have the envelope."

** XXXXXXXXXXXX**

She shifted on her feet and tugged her jacket tighter around her. The thermostat was turned down low. Necessary when you were handling bodies. But she didn't much relish the feeling of being in a mausoleum while the smell of formaldehyde and methanol burned her throat.

"Shay Bennett; ain't you a sight for sore eyes."

Sheila smiled at the nickname she hadn't heard since she was a young girl and turned around to greet her friend.

Inez Valens looked just the same as she did when they were twenty five. Laughing eyes, so bright they sparkled in the dark, a mass of obsidian curls particularly striking against the white of her lab coat, and a killer smile that could make a man forget his own first name.

Back then, Sheila had been tracking a vampire that was killing indiscriminately across the tri-state area. The body trail had led to Philadelphia where Inez had been the pathologist handling the case, and the two women had taken an instant liking to each other.

Inez was the most talented necromancer she had ever met. Somewhat ironic since Sheila doubted there was a woman with a greater passion for life, than the one who spent the majority of her days talking to the dead.

She stopped to trade a few friendly barbs with the security guard, Malcolm, about her working late. They seemed to have a running joke about a bar, a brawl, and a bunch of angry law clerks. Then she was leading them down a corridor, towards the labs and exam rooms.

"Were you waitin' long?"

"Just a few minutes," Sheila said; the squeak of their shoes on the polished linoleum the only sound in the deserted building, "I'm sorry it took this for me to get in touch."

"You been busy lookin' after that lovely granddaughter o' yours," Inez waved away her apology, easily. "How is Bonnie? I ain't seen her since her fourth birthday. I still remember how she spent an hour talkin' to that Weepin' Willow, tryin' to cheer it up!"

Sheila smiled at the memory. When Bonnie learned what the tree was called, she had been determined to "make it happy". Only Matt had been able to coax her away. It had been time to cut the birthday cake and he told Bonnie that if they brought the old tree a slice, it wouldn't be sad anymore. So Bonnie, Matt, Caroline, Elena and Tyler had all sat eating birthday cake beneath the Weeping Willow in the Bennett's backyard.

"She's the same; way too stubborn and clever for her own good. And definitely giving me grey hair before my time."

"Remind you of anyone?" Inez gave her old friend a knowing look. "You didn't tell her the real reason you're up here, did you?"

"Bonnie is dealing with a lot right now," She reasoned. "Of all the impossible truths she's learned lately, this is the one she's least ready to accept."

"You sure it's Bonnie who ain't ready?"

Sheila met her friend's gaze evenly. "This is about protecting my granddaughter."

Inez looked like she might argue the point, but decided to let it go.

"Alright," She nodded. "You ready for this?"

The Bennett witch gave her friend an impatient look.

"I know it's been a while, but this isn't the first time I've been around a dead body."

"Ain't that the truth."

Inez led them into an exam room with a single slab and carefully removed the body sheet so they could see the victim's face.

It was a woman.

Her blonde hair was fanned out like a halo around her and under the stark fluorescent lighting, her skin appeared almost translucent. There was no visible sign of trauma or injury, and if Sheila didn't know better, she would have thought that she was just asleep.

"Her name is Marina Vastra. Thirty six years old. From the Ukraine," Inez reported. "She entered the United States a month ago, on a tourist visa. Her landlady found the body. She'd been renting a house in Kensington."

"Not exactly a prime, vacation spot. Is she the witch that attacked my granddaughter?"

"I think it's a pretty safe bet. She had this in her wallet," Sheila took the small slip of paper. "It's a receipt for a gas station in Whitmore, dated April 15th."

"That's the night Bonnie and Matt were attacked."

"And I put Vastra's death at about three nights later; though it's difficult to get an exact time with the nature of her injuries."

That caught Sheila's attention.

"How did she die?"

"That's the thing," Inez moved to pull the sheet covering the body lower. "There isn't a single mark on her body. But when I opened her up..."

Sheila stared aghast at the blackened, carbonized organs her mind at once clamorous with shock and curiosity. Her eyes travelled reluctantly downwards, from the heart and lungs, towards the liver. All that charred and ruined 'flesh' provoked a shiver of disgust and horror. Marina Vastra had burnt to death from the inside.

"Jesus Christ," She murmured.

Inez exhaled and made little popping noises with her lips. "I know. It's one helluva killin' curse. And that ain't all. Our perp left somethin' behind."

She rummaged through a number of evidence trays before she found what she was looking for. It looked like an antique. The hilt of the weapon bore an unusual insignia: two serpents, one devouring the other.

"It's the sigil of the Blood Guard. If this is this Tristan fella's handy work, then he ain't no ordinary warlock. He's a Catha," She handed Sheila the enchanted dagger.

"But that's not possible," Sheila frowned, turning the weapon over in her hands. "Their way of life ended centuries ago. They were persecuted, along with the high priestesses; their order wiped out."

"Well it looks like at least one of 'em survived. I was hopin' Miss Vastra would be able to tell us more," Inez frowned down at the body resting on the slab between them.

"You haven't been able to summon her?"

The pathologist's lips tightened; her expression decidedly grumpy.

"The Catha placed a powerful hex on the body. It's stoppin' me from readin' her soul or bein' able to commune with her spirit."

"He wanted to ensure that her secrets remained intact - in this realm and the next," Sheila set the dagger down. She had read about the ancient practice.

At the height of the Old Religion, some covens would perform a protective hex on a witch's soul after her death. The ritual was performed to prevent other mages from learning about her magic; her spells and abilities and, in some very rare cases, attempting to absorb it for themselves. It was one of many ways a coven protected itself.

"Can you break it?" Sheila asked.

"It ain't gonna be easy. The spell will take a few days to prepare. I'll have to use dark magic and some things we gotta get, ain't exactly gonna be stocked at the local Wal-mart."

"Reaching into the veil," Sheila let out a low whistle. "That's not going to be safe."

"A witch is dead. There's a Catha runnin' amuck and an ancient vampire raisin' hell," Inez smiled and raised her eyebrows as if she had just provided the answer to a ridiculously easy question, "Safe is relative."

**TBC**


	9. Interlude II

**Author's note:** Just a heads up. Some offensive language and violence in this chapter. I don't think it warrants an 'M' rating. But if anyone feels it does, shoot me a PM and I'll rate the chapter accordingly.

**Disclaimer: **Nope. Still don'town anything. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

_**Interlude II:**_

"_**Dying is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well."**_

Henrik had just enough time to prepare for the party and head off to the Fort. He hated these occasions. His elder brother had always been the one with the silver tongue, the people charmer. Elijah could convince a man to sell his own mother and he didn't need his powers of compulsion to do it. But Henrik had never had the patience for those mind-numbing inane social niceties or the politics of discourse. His idea of a conversation was a dark room and a sharp poker tipped with vervain to elicit the desired response.

Getting out of his silver Aston Martin, he saw that the Georgian building was agleam, all aglow tonight, light flooding from all four storeys, across its full twenty two rooms. Three gilded commissionaires stood at the main entrance. He was checked, saluted and directed across the reception area to the wide double staircase. Second floor, Grosvenor Suite.

He smelt cigar smoke first, then heard the ebb and flow of too-loud conversation and chorused female laughter, feeling the transient electricity of excitement that fresh blood always provoked. They would drink too much, he knew, they always did at these rare gatherings. As he moved through the throng of revellers, he spotted Katherine Pierce; laughing as the males grouped and regrouped around her, sure of herself, sought after. She stooped to stub out her cigarette and her breasts were momentarily visible. Henrik turned away, his face a mask of loathing, of profound, metaphysical disgust. How that Jezebel whore dared show her face amongst their company, and so brazenly. It was insubordinate. It was –

His elbow was gripped, hard, and he was wheeled round effortlessly as if being led on a dance floor.

"He's fucking livid," Will Regis told him with enthusiastic relish. Regis was his father's oldest retainer, an ex-British SAS Captain when he was human. "Steam coming out of his ears," Regis continued. "Course you never can tell with Mikael. That control, that discipline. He's impassive. A man of few words, even when fucking livid."

"What's happened?" He asked cautiously. Surely the news wouldn't have already reached his father. And they were still in control of the situation.

"Kol stepped in it with some of Kovac's crew. Stole a girl or a car, or possibly both."

"My brother draws far too much attention to himself."

Regis clapped him on the back, his face sagging with sympathy.

"Wouldn't want to be in his shoes, lad. They're in the Armour Room."

Henrik nodded his thanks and made his way to the elevator. After descending two floors, he pulled the emergency stop and then entered a four digit sequence. The back panel of the lift slid open revealing a secret passageway. As the panel slipped shut behind him, the aluminium and rubber seals kissing shut, he felt an immediate sense of relaxation rinse through him to be away from the stifling rooms of the party. Buttons were pressed, switches flicked, low lights went on and Delibes' famous coloratura from _Lakmé _drifted through the hallway ahead of him.

"Our position in society, the very respectability of our family is called into question by your wild behaviour," Mikael was speaking, his voice low, deceptively calm, and hard as steel. "The one thing I've given you, Kol, is a name. You're a Mikaelson. When they judge you, they judge me. And no man judges me."

"Forgive the interruption, father," Henrik entered the room. His younger brother was leaning against a suit of armour and looked thoroughly chastened.

"Not at all, Henrik. Your brother and I were just reaching an understanding. Isn't that right?"

"Yes," Kol said quietly.

"Yes what?"

The youngest Mikaelson straightened and met his father's gaze squarely.

"Yes sir."

Mikael nodded, satisfied and handed his elder son a glass of whisky. "You have some news, Henrik?"

"We've had a breach at the compound," He said without preamble.

"Klaus?"

"Naturally. He's coming after the Lockwood boy and he's called in reinforcements. They don't know we've detected them, so it shouldn't take much to pick them up."

"Now that's more like it," Kol smirked, his dark eyes gleaming. "When does the hunting party head out?"

"Let Lockwood go," Mikael said quietly.

"What?" Kol turned incredulous eyes on his father. "You're letting Klaus win?"

"Kol is right. Klaus is defying you, father. If we do not take the trouble to check him, he will only grow bolder."

"Sybilla has had the boy for a week and all she's gleaned are two words, 'Joseph Bell'. He clearly has no knowledge of his uncle's true purpose, or he would have leaked something more," Mikael reasoned.

Kol huffed.

"I've been stuck here for weeks. Why do Henrik and Sybilla get to have all the fun?"

"We let you handle Mason Lockwood and look how that turned out," Henrik retorted.

"So I worked him a little hard."

"You worked him a little dead. He wasn't too chatty after that, was he? Not exactly smart, killing your only lead."

"It was an accident."

"I thought the point of an excuse is to make you look better, not worse."

"Boys that's enough," Mikael didn't raise his voice, but the brothers recognised the command in the patriarch's tone and instantly stopped bickering. "Mason Lockwood is dead and whatever he knew, he took to his grave. Klaus, on the other hand, is still very much alive and may prove useful. Let him think that he is a step ahead of us. In reality, whatever move he makes, he will be exactly where I want him to be."

"You think he can lead us to the elusive Mr Bell," Henrik surmised.

"Your half-brother has his faults. But he is not unintelligent. And with the Bennett half-breed on his side, he may achieve a better result."

"So we will wait," Kol said, "and let our enemies come to us."

"Not you, Mr. Kol. Since you seem not to know what to do with yourself, I have a new appointment for you. Starting tomorrow, you will be under Regis' command. Teach you some discipline. At the moment, his duties are to keep Miss Pierce under close watch."

"You've got to be joking," Kol looked about him in angry incredulity. "I have to babysit the harlot? What is she compared to us? It's insulting."

"Kol has a point," Henrik agreed. "I must speak plainly, father. I do not understand how you can bear to suffer her company. She is little better than a talking beast; soiled and impure. Her very presence offends."

"Believe me boys; I do not disagree with you. But Miss Pierce has her use. And I gave her my word."

"You owe her nothing," Henrik insisted. "Have you forgotten all that she tried to do? How she meant to humiliate and ruin our family."

"Of course not. But a gentleman cannot go back on his word. I promised Miss Pierce that she would be under my protection, so long as Klaus is a threat," Mikael looked at his sons fixedly and the insincere smile on his face grew marginally wider, marginally more insincere.

"So...once we've taken care of Klaus..." Kol spoke again, understanding dawning.

"...that will satisfy the terms of our agreement. And we will rid ourselves of the rabid bitch once and for all," Mikael finished, raising his glass in a silent toast. Henrik smirked.

"She thinks that all is forgotten."

"Then she's made her last mistake," Mikael said, raising his deep voice, a lazy patrician drawl. He set the warm, empty, smeared glass down. "One thing my enemies should always remember – a Mikaelson never forgets."

** XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

It was barely light out. The sun looked like a silver oyster as it stayed hidden behind the gathering clouds. A wind had freshened and the scent of the vampires nesting nearby was strong. The pack huddled together while Aya drew a rough schematic in the soft dirt. They were all awake and ready to do battle.

"This is where Henrik's personal chambers lie," She and Raphael had acquired an entire layout of the compound. "There's another chamber here that seems to be a kind of meeting room."

"So he'll more than likely be near those areas," Klaus pointed out and Aya nodded; her long dark hair swaying with the movement.

James, the leader of the group, eyed Klaus suspiciously. He had no doubt Klaus had every intention of killing the original vampire and he couldn't say it would be any great loss. But however satisfying it may be to get revenge on the vampire that slaughtered more than half of his pack eighteen years ago, there was a greater endgame here. He just hoped the other werewolf would remember that.

"The interrogation cells are down on this side of the area," Raphael continued, marking an X at the spot he was indicating.

"And you are absolutely certain the description you have given us is Lockwood?" James wanted to know.

"Yes, Henrik met with Sybilla a little after midnight and confirmed it."

"How many guards?"

"Henrik's got twenty vamps on rotating guard. An encounter with them will be unavoidable."

"Alright, here's the plan," James took a step back, crossing his arms as he looked at the diagram. "Klaus will handle the guards. Aya and Raphael, you'll retrieve the boy. Will finding him be a problem?"

"When Sybilla isn't interrogating him, there is a vamp placed on him," He explained, "I'll be able to smell him and pinpoint his location."

"Then Scotty and I will go after Henrik and Sybilla. We'll block both paths here," He took Aya's stick to point; "this will cut off their only means of escape. We are not to kill Henrik unless absolutely necessary," He gave Klaus a meaningful look.

James was thankful that the original would be all the way at the back of the compound. There would be too many vamps and fewer chances for Klaus to come in and kill his half brother in all the chaos.

"Henrik is our priority," James repeated. "If any vamp tries to interfere they will be cut down, understood?" The success of this plan depended on execution with expediency. They couldn't afford to give Henrik a chance to call for back-up.

"Are there any other prisoners?"

"Just the Lockwood boy," Aya confirmed.

"Good, that makes things simpler," James nodded. "Alright then, we're about three miles from the location. I'll keep ahead; Scotty will fall in after me, with Aya in the middle, then Raphael, and Klaus in the back watching our flank."

While the other three werewolves got ready to move out, James chose this moment to take Klaus aside. His friend had been uncharacteristically quiet, and he knew that could not signify anything good.

"Niklaus, you understand that this cannot be a fight to the death," He said soft and low. "I know that you have a complex relationship with your brother—"

"He is not my brother," Klaus rasped harshly. "It takes more than blood to make us family."

James mentally sighed. He knew this was a sensitive issue.

"I merely meant that you share a difficult history," He amended. "But if we are to uncover Mikael's plans, we have to take Henrik alive. Do not let your personal feelings towards him cloud your judgement in this endeavour."

Klaus continued to stare straight ahead, rocking back on his heels slightly; hands in his pockets. To the casual observer, he looked the picture of relaxation and this was where you could get into trouble with the werewolf. Niklaus was at his most dangerous when he appeared not to give two shits.

"My judgement is perfectly sound," He said at last. "But when you send me in there, I will destroy every vampire in that hole. I'll give you ten minutes. You and the others go in first, take Henrik alive, and I will pick off the leftovers. If it takes longer," His eyes turned amber. "I can't promise anything. I'm not in a patient mood."

James didn't argue with him. Under the circumstances, it was the best compromise he would get.

** XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

There were two vampires standing guard at the entrance to the compound. Once they were in range Klaus went out first, his gait smooth and controlled. Their crimson eyes slid over to him as he emerged, their blackened veins rippling, and matching grins spread across their faces at the same time.

"We knew you would come," One of them spoke arrogantly.

Klaus stopped, his expression blank, amber eyes glowing preternaturally as he sized up his enemy. "Well, I'm here," He said, raising his arms in open challenge. "Come and get me."

The two vampires rushed at him together. They were well synchronized but, for someone like Klaus, who was insanely fast, they looked as if they were moving in slow motion.

One of the males howled in pain as his arm landed a few feet away from him. His eyes widened in shock as he noticed his partner's severed head resting at the werewolf's feet. The commotion brought more vampires to the base entrance and Klaus turned to his pack.

"Get going," He told them brusquely, "the clock is ticking." Then he rushed off, letting the one-armed vamp chase after him. He waited until James and the others were inside then went back on the offensive. Four more vampires had joined the one-armed male and they began to circle him.

"What's your plan now, werewolf? It's five against one."

Klaus smirked. They had no idea that they were all about to die a horrible death. "Let's see if I can aim for the throat," He said and charged.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Once they entered the compound, they met surprisingly little resistance. No alarms went off; there were no traps, and only a handful of guards. Henrik was either extremely incompetent or he meant for them to breach the base. Given the Mikaelson's reputation, Raphael was willing to bet on the latter and he couldn't snuff out a spark of suspicion that they were being played.

Picking up the human's scent, he and Aya easily navigated the maze of passageways through the interrogation ward. They encountered three or four vampires but they were all quickly dispatched and five minutes later they had Tyler Lockwood. He was alive but unconscious, and it looked like Sybilla had been putting him though some form of mental torture.

When they emerged from the underground passage, Scotty and James joined them. The two males were sporting a few injuries but they were minor and already starting to heal.

"You find Henrik yet?" Raphael asked, adjusting the fireman's hold he had on the unconscious human boy.

"Nah," Scotty's ebony eyes flashed with annoyance. "Got duped by a damn shadow clone. He and the witch musta known we were comin'. Pulled a bail n' switch."

"They're toying with us," James said. "They meant for us to recapture Lockwood."

"How's he doin'?" Scotty looked the boy over. Tyler was shirtless and barefoot; his skin unnaturally pale and damp with sweat. The boy's eyes moved rapidly behind his closed lids, as if in some troubled REM sleep and he was shivering.

"He's holding on, but there's no telling for how long. Sybilla did a real number on him," Raphael reported.

James nodded. "Let's move."

The three werewolves formed a swastika formation around Raphael so they could deflect any attack on him and Tyler.

"Klaus is gonna be pissed," Scotty remarked as they finally entered the main hallway.

It was deathly quiet.

Aya gasped at the carnage. It wasn't as if any of them hadn't seen a dead vampire before, and it wasn't as if Klaus hadn't gone for quick kills. It was just...so many...

The corridor was littered with bodies, most of them decapitated, a few torn apart, limb from limb. Crossing the courtyard they saw Klaus reach into the chest of his last opponent and rip his heart out. The vampire fell to his knees, still alive long enough to watch Klaus wave the undead organ tauntingly in front of him, before driving a wooden stake through it. It was a brutal and sadistic murder. He kicked the desiccated remains aside and slowly, his amber gaze shifted towards them.

"He's not here," His tone was flat.

"No," James spoke plainly. "Our rescue's complete. We can start heading back."

Klaus's face was an unreadable mask.

"You go on ahead, I'll catch up," His voice held no emotion.

None of the others argued with this and he disappeared. They had just cleared the compound when a loud explosion went off. The group stopped, looking back at the freshly formed crater where the interrogation cells used to be.

Scotty whistled.

"Remind me to never seriously piss Klaus off."

The others silently agreed as the rest of the compound was engulfed in flames.

**TBC**

* * *

**AN 2: **Thanks for reading! The quotation at the beginning is from "Lady Lazarus" by Sylvia Plath.

On a different note, I need some advice re formatting. If I want to have a bigger space between the chapter title and the opening paragraph, or a bigger space between the scene 'breaks', does anyone know how to accomplish this? If you've got time to help my inept techno brain, shoot me a PM with 'Format Aid' in the subject line. Thanks in advance! I'd really, really appreciate it. ;)


	10. Know Thy Enemy

**Author's note: ** A little violence in this chapter and a brief character cameo.

**8**

**KNOW THY ENEMY**

"Are you sure you don't want me to come over?" Bonnie balanced her books with one arm, slinging her sports bag over her left shoulder, while trying to lock the front door at the same time.

"_I'm okay, Bon,"_ Matt's tired voice came over the line. _"At this point it's just keeping her hydrated and making sure she doesn't choke on her own vomit. If it gets bad, I'll take her to Mystic General. Nothing I haven't dealt with before,"_ He couldn't keep the bitter edge out of his voice.

Bonnie frowned in sympathy. Far too often, Matt was left to pick up the pieces and clean up his mom's mess.

"Alright," She reluctantly agreed. "But I'm coming over straight after practise."

"_Bon—"_

"No arguments, Mattie," She said firmly. "I'll be there."

"_You're not gonna take no for an answer, are you?"_ He chuckled weakly at her stubbornness.

"Not a chance. I'll use blackmail if I have to."

"_Blackmail?"_

"You want me to tell Tripp what really happened to his guitar?"

"_Don't you dare!"_

"I'll see you later then.""

"_You're evil."_

"I love you too, Mattie," Bonnie sobered then. "I do, you know? You're my family, Matt. So if you need me, just say, 'hey'. And I'll be there; even if I have to blow off Calculus and face Caroline's wrath. I'll be there."

"_Thanks, Bon."_

They hung up and Bonnie headed down the drive towards her car. She was stopped in her tracks, however, by the sight of Damon Salvatore leaning casually against his Camaro, clearly waiting for her.

"You're making a habit of this, showing up," Her expectant gaze asked a silent question.

He smirked and opened the passenger side door. "Get in, Judgey. We've got places to be."

With a long suffering-sigh at Damon's perpetual bossiness – would it kill him, just once, to ask her nicely - she climbed into the car.

"I've been thinking," He started as they headed down the suburban street.

"Did it hurt?"

Damon glared at her. "Very funny."

He took the left turn taking them on to the main road through Mystic Falls.

"Tyler's envelope," He continued. "I know a guy in Georgia. He's a local fence; deals in unusual artefacts, mostly on the black market."

"A criminal? Do I even want to know how you know this guy?"

"Probably not, and you're judging again. The point is; he might be able to tell us more about the medallion."

Bonnie contemplated Damon's words. She had hoped that whatever Mason had left for Tyler would be able to shed some light on why her..._family _was after him. Instead, the items had left them more perplexed than ever.

"_Just what we need. More cryptic bullshit,"_ Damon had grumbled when Caroline showed them the envelope's contents: a postcard from Scotland and a silver medallion with a two-headed eagle on one side, and a cross and crown on the other. What looked like a serial number had been engraved along the crown's base.

"I guess it's worth a shot," She agreed finally.

"Great! You'll like Atlanta, Judgey," Damon wiggled his eyebrows and only then did Bonnie realise that they were on the road that led out of Mystic Falls, heading for the interstate.

"Damon! What the hell!" She was aghast. "I can't go with you to Georgia!"

"Why not?" He pouted.

"I have school for one thing. You know, I actually want to graduate in June."

Damon arched a sceptical eyebrow.

"You're taking almost all AP classes, Bon-bon. You can afford to cut class for a day."

"Maybe, but that's not the only reason."

"Right. You promised the jock you'd be there with a bucket and mop to clean up his mom's sick. Oww!" Damon glared at her.

"You were eavesdropping," She socked him in the shoulder again.

"Okay, seriously, Bon-bon, you're half vamp. You gotta know your own strength," Damon rubbed his probably bruised shoulder. He never thought he'd see the day when he actually missed the little witch's aneurysms. Fun times.

"Well it serves you right for listening to other people's conversations," She retorted.

"I'm a vampire, that's what we do."

"No, Damon, that's what you do. But I did promise Matt. So you'll have to handle this on your own," Bonnie dug around in her school bag. "Besides, you and I don't do so well together on road trips," An involuntary shiver rinsed through the little witch that did not go unnoticed by Damon.

"Are we ever going to talk about Dublin?" He ventured.

"Nothing to talk about," Bonnie said dismissively and continued to root through her bag.

Damon sighed. Her answer didn't surprise him but that didn't make it any less frustrating. He knew that Bonnie was uncomfortable with the idea of drinking blood or sharing it. But she had put those reservations aside that awful weekend and broke one of her most precious rules to help him. He had taken it as progress. Maybe she was finally ready to let her grudge against him go. Only for everything to go sideways when they got back to Mystic Falls. She actually seemed to hate him more. Damon wondered if he'd ever find out why. Or if he would just have to resign himself to never knowing. Given the little witch's determined avoidance of the subject, he was willing to bet on the latter.

Bonnie knew that Damon was sneaking glances at her. But she ignored it, unwilling to give him an opening for something she thought they would both do better to forget. Feeling the cool metal against her palm, she withdrew her hand and offered the medallion to Damon in triumph.

"What?" She said when he just stared at her; the silver pendant caught the light and it looked like a tiny flame was dancing on her palm.

"You trust me that much?" his gaze shifted back to the road, but the corner of his lip quirked up in a half smirk. Despite his joking tone, Bonnie got the sense that he was genuinely curious about the answer.

"I trust you enough," She said quietly. "Now turn around and drive me to Mystic High."

"I can do that. _But basic courtesy would have you phrase the request as a question rather than a command_," He said dryly, repeating her own words back at her.

"That's my line," She feigned annoyance, but couldn't stop the small smile that rose on her lips.

"Careful, Judgey," Damon glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "I might start to think you actually like me."

"We wouldn't want that now, would we?"

Xxxxx

Bonnie realised her mistake too late.

She had only thought of being practical. Having Damon drop her back home so she could take her own car would take too long and she would miss the first bell. But as the tell-tale Camaro pulled out of the parking lot and she made her way to the front steps, noticing the shocked expressions on her friends' faces, she realised her error.

"Why were you riding with Damon?" Elena was the first to speak.

"My car wouldn't start," Bonnie tried for nonchalance. Caroline elevated her eyebrows, a knowing look on her pretty features and Bonnie inwardly cringed at her lame excuse. To the blonde's credit, she didn't say anything. Elena however, was a different matter. Her brow furrowed in suspicion and she started firing questions at Bonnie like it was going out of style.

"But why would you call Damon? In fact, how come you even have his number? You guys hate each other and he usually just has Stefan call you when he wants something. Why wouldn't you rather call Stefan if you needed a ride?"

"She did," Bonnie froze as the younger Salvatore joined them. "But I had already left. The boarding house is closest to Bonnie's place. So I called Damon," Stefan lied smoothly and Bonnie could have cried with relief when Elena seemed to accept this explanation.

Caroline was a different matter. She was about to say something, but Stefan beat her to it.

"Do you girls mind if I steal Bonnie for a minute? I wanted to talk to you about our Chem project." She and Stefan both took AP Chemistry and had been partnered together for lab work this term.

Bonnie immediately agreed and sent up a silent prayer that Stefan was so damn perceptive. He had sensed she needed an out and provided one for her. Quickly making her excuses to her friends, she shot Stefan a grateful look and the vampire gave an almost imperceptible nod in response. Almost.

Caroline's keen eyes had not missed the silent exchange between the two.

"We'll talk later," She said significantly. And at the familiar determined gleam in her blonde friend's eyes, Bonnie knew that she hadn't heard the last of it.

For once though, the gods appeared to be on her side. Bonnie didn't have any morning classes with her two friends and at recess Mr. Judge, the music teacher, wanted to speak with her about the upcoming festival she was helping him organise. As the school day drew to a close, Bonnie had all but forgotten about that morning until Caroline finally cornered her during study hall.

"Expecting a call from Damon?"

Bonnie startled and snapped her phone shut.

"Don't sneak up on me like that, Care," She chided, "And no. I was checking if I had any messages from Klaus. About Tyler."

She had hoped Caroline would take the bait but the blonde was not to be deterred.

"Given the little show you and Stefan put on, I take it Elena doesn't know you've been spending _quality time_ with a certain vampire."

Bonnie pulled a face.

"Don't say it like that. You make it sound like...like..."

"Like you're _with _him? Canoodling in his Camaro? Making out with a kissy face and a condom in his back pocket?"

"Caroline!"

"What? This is Damon we're talking about. And all of a sudden it's like you two are joined at the hip."

"Don't be dramatic."

"Dramatic? A few weeks ago, you hated the guy's guts. Now you're hanging out together at weekends, he's driving you to school. And you seem to be talking to him a hell of a lot more than you are to us."

"It's not like that, Care."

"Then what is it like? What is going on between you and Damon Salvatore, Bonnie? Because I really hope I'm not about to lose another friend to that jerk."

Bonnie's eyes widened in alarm as she realised what her blonde friend was getting at.

"What? You think I...with Damon...I'm not... no!" She sputtered embarrassingly. "No. Just no, Care. I promise. Damon is helping me with something. That's all. We're trying to find out why Henrik took Tyler."

"But this isn't just about Tyler, is it? Otherwise, you wouldn't have kept it from us." At Bonnie's silence, she knew she was right. Caroline gave a resigned sighed. She could force the issue, but her friend was nothing if not stubborn. The blonde cheerleader knew she would sooner get blood from a stone than she would a word out of Bonnie Bennett.

"I wish you would tell me what's going on, Bon," She said eventually. "But I won't say anything."

"Thank you, Caroline."

"I do think you're making a mistake with Damon though."

"Care..."

"You're putting an awful lot of trust in him, Bonnie. I just hope you know what you're doing."

"I'm not being naive about this."

"I really want that to be true. Just remember, Bon. Damon only looks out for Damon. Maybe he's being helpful now, when it's still convenient for him. But when that changes...  
Just be careful, ok? And watch your back. 'Cause I wouldn't count on Damon to."

XXXXX

Damon had underestimated McCullough.

He knew how this worked; no honour among thieves, only trust the guy as much as you could pay him. But if he was honest, he had been arrogant enough to think that the smuggler was too much of a coward to ever try to cross him.

He was wrong.

"You just gonna stand there like some pansy, Salvatore?" the enemy vampire was grinning as they surrounded him, "Or are we gonna fight?"

Damon looked at the four vampires stalking him, a battle plan forming.

"Have it your way, Enzo," His eyes, like methane flames, glinted dangerously. "I've had my full of vice. I'm in the mood for violence."

Six well aimed strikes had the first vampire crumpling to the ground, with just enough time to avoid being hit by a massive spiked ball that was wielded by his partner.

Damon hissed at the sharp stinging sensation in his shoulder and glared at Enzo's answering smirk. The sneaky bastard had shot him with a crossbow. He pulled the arrow out, carelessly tossing it to the floor.

"Is that it?" Damon asked, sounding almost bored. "There's three of you and this is all you can do?"

The taunt worked. The vampires charged forward but Damon was ready. He leapt forward ramming a knee into one of his attackers. He ignored the coward's whining and spun round to take out the remaining two vampires.

Enzo went down hard; something that would have brought Damon great joy had he not been distracted by the sudden fire spreading through his veins.

"Not...very bright...are you...mate?" Enzo managed to get out, his lungs filling with blood. He glanced at the discarded arrow and Damon realized what he'd done.

"Vervain," He bit out.

"I'll... shake hands... with you in hell..," Enzo gave a dark chuckle, that quickly turned into a cough and he finally succumbed to his injuries.

XXXXX

The smell of fried onions and grilled steak had Bonnie practically salivating. Her foot tapped impatiently as she waited in line behind a soccer mum that seemed to be taking forever to place her order.

Caroline had given her a lift home after practise so she could fetch her car. She had been on her way to Matt's when her stomach growled in protest, reminding Bonnie that she had forgotten to eat anything since breakfast. So she'd decided to swing by the Grill first and called Matt, figuring she'd pick something up for him too. By the time she pulled into the parking lot, the world had turned grey and wet with a cold spring rainstorm. Bonnie dashed into the restaurant and had been glad that the line for food wasn't long. She was starving.

Soccer mum finally moved off, wrangling her twin six year old boys after her with an apologetic smile. The Grill wasn't especially busy at this time in the afternoon, so Bonnie placed her order and then slipped into an empty booth while she waited. She flipped her phone open, frowning slightly when there still wasn't any word from Klaus or Damon. Her werewolf uncle, she wasn't too worried about. But the wayward vampire had a knack for finding trouble and losing his shit in the process. She tapped her nails lightly against the polished table top.

Then something very odd happened.

The wall, decorated with black and white photos of the original town, began to swirl and blur; the low chatter of the other patrons became an indistinguishable hum. Her skin became hotter and each breath she took became heavier and uneven, in time with her quickening heartbeat.

"May I join you, Miss Bennett?" A deep, English voice asked her.

Bonnie's eyes went wide as the stranger from the library sat down at her table. His grey eyes twinkled as he looked at her and he smiled a happy smile, his teeth white and perfect from where she sat. Within seconds of his arrival an apron-clad waitress was at his side, grinning flirtatiously as he placed his order. She walked away with a deliberate swish to her hips, but the handsome man's gaze was fixed intently on Bonnie.

She could only return his stare with a blank expression. Slightly unnerved by his attention, she cast a quick glance about the room. There were plenty of empty tables so why did he insist on sitting with her? Then something occurred to her that she had been too surprised to properly take note of before.

"How do you know my name?"

"We've met before."

"Yes, in the library. But I didn't tell you my name. And you didn't introduce yourself either," Her eyes narrowed suspiciously but he just seemed to smile wider, as if he were amused by some secret joke that she didn't get.

"You may be surprised by what I know."

That was a highly suspicious remark, and her expression betrayed that opinion.

"You knew about Nelia Somerset."

"Among other things," He gave a nonchalant shrug. "I think you'd find my insight valuable."

His silvery eyes shifted to a spot just over her shoulder. She glanced behind her to see what he was looking at: a young man seated a few tables over. When he saw Bonnie looking, his eyebrows lifted flirtatiously over his long eyelashes. She quickly turned away.

"He's been watching you for a few days now."

"What?" Bonnie was alarmed. "Who is he?"

"An emissary of Mikael Mikaelson no doubt."

"Mikael? So he's a va-"

He held up a hand to stop her before she said anymore.

With the clinking of porcelain, his order arrived and he flashed a disarming smile at the older waitress. She blushed bright red before sauntering off like a preening Persian housecat. The stranger didn't notice; his gaze fixed once more on the vampire watching their table.

"He's not going to hurt you. For now, it serves Mikael's interests to have you alive," he sipped his chamomile tea leisurely. "But he is struggling. He must be young still. At that age, most male vampires think of nothing else while they're still conquering their bloodlust. Sex probably hasn't even crossed his mind yet."

Colour bloomed on her cheeks like the blush of a peach. Bonnie thought she was going to be sick. This stranger was talking about a vampire's desire to drink her blood as if they were discussing the weather.

"How do you know this?" Her heart beat furiously in her chest, making her quiver.

"Given your apparent _fondness_ for their company, I would have thought you'd know a vampire when you saw one," He quipped as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Who the hell are you?!" she seethed.

His nostrils flared as he inhaled sharply.

"My name is Tristan du Bois," he said with careful measure. He was focused and intent, all intensity and energy, even though he was deathly still.

Bonnie blanched. She could see it now. That something otherworldly about this man, something ageless and powerful, beautiful and terrible, it was magic.

"You're the warlock," She murmured softly. "You tried to kill me." Bonnie couldn't listen to anymore. Faster than the wings of a beating dragonfly, she was up and walking away.

"Miss Bennett, wait!" He called after her. She just walked faster.

Maybe it wasn't smart; maybe she should have been braver. But all she could think to do, with her head spinning and the blood roaring in her ears, was to Get. Far. Far. Away. Before she knew it, she was out the door and on the street.

"Ignore me, and you risk the lives of everyone you care for!"

That was enough to stop her, and she spun on her heel to face him. "Are you threatening me?" The rain still fell and within seconds she was drenched and freezing.

"No. I'm proposing we work together."

"Why should I?!"

Tristan stepped right in front of her, invading her personal space. He was a good head taller than her and she immediately felt overwhelmed by him. She was trembling, with anger or fear, she couldn't tell. But she held her ground.

"You try my patience," He spoke low in her ear. "Miss Bennett, if I wanted to kill you, you'd already be dead. I came to you because I hoped we might reach an accord. There are things you need to know. So stop fighting me and hear what I have to say, for your own sake."

"Is there a problem here?" Bonnie looked up in surprise to see Stefan standing there; his dark green eyes darting between her and the warlock. Tristan sneered at the younger Salvatore.

"This does not concern you, _vampire_."

Stefan ignored him and she was impressed that he didn't react to being called out so blatantly.

"Bonnie, are you alright?" He said gently.

"I'm fine," She took a shaky step away from the warlock. But Tristan wasn't quite finished.

"This is not something you can escape, Miss Bennett," He grabbed her hand, thrusting a small ring into her palm. "Choose to come to me willingly. You have one week, Miss Bennett – one. Then I stop being so understanding."

With that, Tristan disappeared into the rain like a ghost, as if he'd never been there. Stefan lost his stoic expression, his brow furrowing in concern as he turned to her.

"I'm fine," She repeated numbly. "Fine."

Xxxxx

Bonnie felt as though she were floating. As if the past half hour had not been altogether real. She had a vague recollection of Don, from the Grill, rushing out to remind her she didn't pick up her order. Then Stefan had guided her to her car. He draped his jacket over her shoulders and then insisted on driving her to Matt's. They had been driving in silence for five minutes; both aware of the other, but lost in their own thoughts.

"How come you were there?" Her voice sounded unnaturally loud in the stillness of the car.

Stefan glanced over at her in surprise. Despite her protests that she was fine, he knew that her encounter with that strange man had left her shaken. She'd been dazed and distracted, and he had fully expected Bonnie to ignore him for the duration of the drive to Matt's.

"I was at the bookstore a few blocks over when I sensed a...presence," He explained. "I thought it might be another vampire. Then I found you with that guy. Who was he Bonnie?"

"His name's Tristan. He's the warlock that's been after me."

"What? And he just showed up at the Grill? Did he hurt you?"

"No, he..." She broke off. "...it was weird..."

"Weird how?"

"Well for a guy who's been trying to kill me, he was almost...friendly?"

Stefan frowned, thinking back to the moment he found Bonnie. Tristan had been clutching her wrist, Bonnie trying to lean away from him. Nothing about that had looked friendly to him.

"Bonnie, he said you had one week. That you had to go to him. What was that about?"

The teenage witch bit her tongue. One thing she was certain of after their little exchange – Tristan knew about her true parentage. She was willing to bet that, whatever he wanted with her had something to do with the Mikaelsons. Whether this would work against her or not, she had no idea. But she couldn't tell Stefan any of this without explaining things she just wasn't ready to explain.

"You should tell, Damon," Stefan's voice cut through the fog of her thoughts. Her gaze snapped to him in surprise.

"What did he tell you?" She asked uncertainly.

"Damon? Not a thing. But I'm not blind, Bonnie. And I know my brother better than he thinks. Something's been going on with him, and I know you and he are in it together. You don't have to tell me. But, for some bizarre reason, since you've chosen to trust Damon out of everybody...tell him about Tristan. Don't do this on your own. "

Bonnie bit her lip guiltily.

"Do you think I'm making a mistake? Trusting your brother?"

"I'm not sure I'm the best person to answer that," Stefan sighed. "Damon and I are complicated. There's a lot of difficult history between us and it's not gonna get fixed overnight, if ever. I can only tell you to go with your instincts and just be a little cautious."

Bonnie rubbed her hands tiredly over her face. Caroline had said almost exactly the same thing. Minus the faint edge of optimism. She groaned.

"How did I get here, Stefan? When did this become my life?"

The vampire patted her knee sympathetically.

"Probably around the time I decided to darken your doorway," he was pleased to see her crack a small smile. "Listen, Bonnie. I know you only put up with me because of Elena. And now that's over, things are a little weird. But I do consider you my friend. So if you need help, if you just want to talk, or swap all Damon's bourbon for Ribena..." she chuckled slightly. "You can come to me."

A comfortable silence stretched between them before Bonnie asked curiously.

"Ribena?"

"Oh yeah. I do it when he's annoying. Trust me, Bonnie. There are few things funnier."

"Good to know."

XXXXX

Before she even got home, Bonnie knew that something was wrong. She had spent the rest of the afternoon with Matt, grateful to be able to focus on something other than her problems for a few hours. Kelly Donovan seemed to be recovering from her bender, and had even sat up long enough to watch Jeopardy with them and eat some of the soup Bonnie bought. Matt had kicked her out at nine and Bonnie reluctantly left him.

She had just turned the corner on to her street when an ill sense of foreboding began to creep up on her.

The first thing Bonnie noticed was the signature blue and white Camaro that only one person drove. The second thing Bonnie noticed was the vampire slouched against her front door.

"What took you so fucking long?" Damon spat as she bounded up the porch steps, hurrying over to him.

"Jesus, Damon. What happened?" He was sweating profusely and it seemed to be taking a massive amount of effort for him to hold his head up.

"Next time I tell you to come to Georgia," He tried to glare but could only grimace, "come to Georgia."

The elder Salvatore struggled to his feet, but the minute he stood up, a burning mixture of bile, acid and blood, rose, rebelled, and escaped Damon's stomach all over the Bennett porch.

"Bonnie," he wiped his mouth roughly with the back of his hand, "I think I've been poisoned."

**TBC**


	11. Why Can't We Be Friends

**Author's note: **Just a short one this time. Some bad language. Damon gets a little crude. This chapter picks up literally minutes after the last scene ended. I had a whole plan but Damon and Bonnie had other ideas. They insisted on having an entire update to themselves and I am ever a slave to my characters. So that's what you've got here. Thank you so much everyone, for your enthusiastic response to the previous chapter. Your encouraging words really are like rocket fuel for a writer waiting on the launch pad. Your support is hugely appreciated.

**Disclaimer:** Nope. Couldn't ... quite ... reach ... the ... ownership papers. No copyright infringement is intended.

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**9**

**WHY CAN'T WE BE FRIENDS**

"So what did you do to piss this vampire off so badly?" Bonnie yelled from the kitchen as she scrubbed the sink out with bleach, because Damon had just finished vomiting in it.

He'd thrown up in almost every bowl shaped object he could in the past hour and was now collapsed on the Bennett couch, limbs akimbo. Damon's right leg was tossed over the back of the sofa, with his left dangling across the arm. He had one arm slung across his eyes, while the other was massaging his temples.

"Now? We have to do this now?" he groaned and felt like he was dying. That was a new feeling.

Between the migraine, the agonizing stomach cramps, sensory sensitivity and constant puking, Damon could barely move without wanting to stake himself.

"Well we can't exactly talk after you've horribly desiccated," Bonnie said as she came back into the living room.

She sat on the edge of the coffee table opposite him and gently peeled his arm away from his face. He hissed and squeezed his eyes shut, the pale living room light burning more than a thousand suns. Ignoring his protests, Bonnie pried his fingers open and placed a water bottle in his hand.

"Angelica root and blessed thistle. It'll help. At least temporarily."

He took a tentative sip and waited for the initial cramping to start and the heaving reaction - but none came. Damon gulped the rest of the elixir down in under a minute and instantly, his stomach cramps eased away.

"Enzo was part of my company during the Great War. He was one of the lucky ones. But it left him with a major case of survivor's guilt. It only got worse when he lost his wife and kid to the Spanish Flu," He started to explain. "I turned him. Partly because I was bored, mostly because I figured, if he was a vampire, he'd stop bitching. Things got a little crazy afterwards, and I didn't exactly discourage him."

"Shocker."

The raven-haired vampire glared, but he kept talking.

"We were reckless and Enzo got caught. By a group called the Augustine Society. A bunch of loonies in lab coats; less interested in killing vampires, than they were in experimenting on us. Pretty nasty stuff. I could have helped him. But by then he was too big a liability and it wasn't worth the risk."

"So you turned him, took him on a blood bender, and then just left him to be tortured?"

"Hey. He got himself mixed up with those Augustine quacks," Damon bristled defensively. "He was arrogant and reckless. That's on him."

"Huh."

"What?" a muscle in his cheek was jumping because of a ticking nerve. Bonnie crossed her legs and the sound of her jeans creasing was louder than a freight train. He could feel his migraine intensifying, his skin prickling all over.

"I just find it funny that a guy, who's spent the majority of his existence blaming someone else for _his problems_, cries foul when someone else does the exact same. You really don't think you bared even a little responsibility for what happened to Enzo?"

"No. I may have turned him, but what happened afterwards...Enzo made his own choices."

"Huh."

"Stop doing that!"

"Come on, Damon. You don't see the irony here? You're defending yourself for doing exactly what you've always accused Stefan of."

"That is completely different."

"Is it? You turned Enzo without his consent, the same way Stefan forced you to transition. So either you're justified in blaming Stefan, in which case Enzo is also justified in blaming you. Or, Enzo _is_ responsible for his own choices, and you have to stop blaming your brother. Which is it Damon?" Her green eyes were pinning him now, with ruthless insistence.

He felt cornered. And that pissed him off. Because they both knew the answer to her question and it enraged him. But fuck it; he'd had the day from hell. He didn't need this shit from her. And he had always been really good at dismissing things he didn't need so that he could be right.

"Oh spare me the psycho-babble bullshit!" he spat with as much malice as he could muster. "For being such a fucking master of the human condition, you aren't very forthcoming about your own. Unless I'm missing something, and you finally did tell everyone the truth about what you really are; how Mommy Bennett let a vampire fuck her, with an end result in-"

All the light bulbs burst and the vase on the table shattered spontaneously. Bonnie was perfectly still. He wouldn't have thought anything was wrong if not for the storm in her eyes and the bulging silver veins around her temples that seemed to glow in the darkened room. He'd crossed a line.

"Bonnie-"

"Don't." Her voice was hard and cold.

"I didn't-"

"Damon," She met his gaze stonily. "Don't ever talk about my parents like that again." It was a clear warning.

"Now give me your keys," Bonnie got to her feet.

He immediately complied, tossing over the keys to his precious Camaro. When Bonnie re-entered the house, Enzo's arrow in hand, her features were calm again. But the intensity was still radiating off her in waves; practically a physical thing. Her eyes flashed gold and all the candles in the room were instantly lit. She looked beautiful but deadly.

Damon sat quietly while Bonnie fetched her Grams' grimoire and the necessary medicinal supplies, virtually ignoring him. She set the arrow down on the table and finally the silence became too much for the raven-haired vampire.

"What are you doing?"

"Psychometry," she said with mild distance, and her eyes seemed to be looking right through him.

Damon swallowed hard. She wasn't visibly pouting or sulky, and her expression was composed and professional. Anyone who didn't know her wouldn't even realize that something was wrong.

But Damon knew better, and he was determined to restore things to something that resembled normal for them.

"You mind translating that," He gave a hesitant smirk. "I don't speak witchy."

She blinked. "Objects are psychically imprinted with their history."

And then she didn't say anything more.

She started flipping through the grimoire, but after five minutes without talking, Damon felt the silence close in on him once more. Even when they had constantly been at each other's throats, he had never felt this horrible. And Bonnie had never been this closed off with him before.

It made him wonder if she had actually started to trust him – or, at least, had relaxed her guard around him.

And then he had gone and struck her where he knew it would bleed the most. Making her redouble her efforts to keep her protective, impersonal walls up.

"You want to see what Enzo may have used the arrow for?" He tried again, desperate for anything to break through the silence.

She glanced up at him, looking a little startled - as if she'd forgotten he was even in the room.

"I think he used an enchantment to make its poison more potent," She explained, absolutely no interest in her tone. "Any healing elixir I give you will only work if I can reverse the enchantment. If I can read the arrow's psychometry, I can try to see what hex he put on it." Then she returned her attention to the weapon and grimoire.

After a few more minutes, Bonnie started to prepare some kind of salve. The pleasant scent of lavender and cedar washed over him, and Damon tried again.

"How was your day?" It was the most ridiculous, inane question, but it was all he could come up with at the moment.

Her eyebrows elevated slightly. "Fine."

Damon blew out a frustrated breath, starting to get impatient. Yes, he was the one who had offended her, but he wasn't sure that he deserved this kind of treatment.

"What did you do?" He persisted, determined to keep her talking.

"Went to school," She didn't even bother to look up at him.

Damon scowled, finally fed up of being ignored. He was trying, damn it. Couldn't she see that he was trying to ease things between them? The least she could do was reciprocate.

"This is bullshit," He snapped.

"What?"

Damon rolled his eyes, getting sick of Bonnie's whole distant, superior routine. "You know exactly what. I'm trying to clear the air, and you keep giving me this fucking Ice Queen routine. Why are you being so stubborn?"

Bonnie sighed. "Damon, there's no reason to even get into this. Neither of us is spending time with the other willingly. Obviously, we're gonna get on each other's nerves occasionally. We don't have to become best friends in order to work together until this is over."

"That's not what I'm trying to do," he argued, although it bothered him more than he cared to admit that she could be so dismissive of their partnership. "But I'm trying to apologise, and you won't let me."

Something in Bonnie's expression changed and those iridescent eyes fell matte and lifeless, hidden.

"Why are you apologising?" She demanded.

"What?"

"Why are you apologising Damon? Because there's always an objective with you; always an agenda. So what are you after? Are you worried you won't have a witch in your pocket anymore?"

"Bonnie, stop!" he exclaimed, his voice rising slightly. "This is ridiculous! I know you're not this obtuse. And I'm apologising because I was a dick. I was mad, I was a jerk. And I'm sorry for what I said. Did you hear me? I'm sorry, you stubborn, fucking idiot!"

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then their eyes locked. And then Bonnie started laughing. Damon was absolutely bewildered. Her laughter was choppy and breathless, as she fought to maintain her restraint and failed miserably.

"What's wrong with you now?" He complained.

"Listen to us," she wheezed. "You can't even apologise without fighting."

Damon's lips twitched and he couldn't help chuckling as well at the absurdity of the situation.

"Well I'd do a lot better, if you weren't so extraordinarily pig-headed, Bonnie Bennett."

She shrugged and flashed a small smile. Once again, Damon marvelled at how rapidly the mood seemed able to change between them. He could never be bored, that was for sure. Just when he thought he had the little witch figured out, she'd do something else and he'd have to start from scratch.

Bonnie went back to fixing the salve, but with none of the awkward tension this time. About ten minutes later, the mixture was ready.

"I'll need to put this on the wound."

Damon obliged and stripped off his shirt.

"You know, there are easier ways of getting me naked, Judgey," He quipped.

Bonnie paid him no attention. Focused and intent on her task, the little witch had shifted into a stern-faced medic.

He winced when she touched his shoulder wound; the area around the punctured flesh already turning black from the effects of the poison. She muttered an absent apology and began to rub the salve across the angry-looking skin.

_Sythan arrest wearth feasceaft funden. Denum æfter dome. Dreamleas gebad he gewinnes longsum._

There was a gentle hiss as the salve foamed slightly. Damon found her touch gentle and soothing as she fed magic into the wound, easing the pain away into a pleasant tingle that left him feeling oddly relaxed.

"Will I survive?" he deadpanned.

"I think you're out of the woods," she carefully wrapped a cotton bandage around his shoulder. The light from the candles brought out the warm hue of her skin and she almost seemed to glow. Damon blinked, suddenly feeling a little heady from her close proximity. He could smell the herbs on her skin: a mix of lavender and cedar, and something that was indefinably magic.

"So..." he began tentatively as she checked the bandage."Am I forgiven?"

Bonnie shrugged.

"Is it really that hard to do such a simple thing?"

She pulled the cotton unnecessarily tight and he yelped.

"Wuss," he taunted.

"Don't call me a wuss."

"Then do it," He smirked. "It'll make us friends."

Bonnie scoffed.

"Today you want my friendship, tomorrow it'll be my love."

"And what if my heart did desire you?" He couldn't resist teasing her. Bonnie, none too gently, tossed his shirt at him. The vampire made an 'oof' of sound as it smacked him in the face.

"You really need to work on your bedside manner," he grumbled good-naturedly, pulling his shirt on.

"Go home, Damon," She pushed him towards the door. "Sleep, and drink some...you know."

"But you haven't said you forgive me, yet. Go on, don't be shy."

Bonnie let out an exasperated breath. He wasn't going to let this go.

"Fine," She conceded grumpily, "I forgive you."

He pouted.

"I took a hit, _literally_, for the team. You could show me a little more love, than that."

"Accept it with my hatred or buzz off," She said with a toss of her head.

The front door swung open and Damon smirked as the little witch retreated to the living room. When he didn't reply, Bonnie thought she was finally rid of him.

"Hey Judgey," she spun round to see him standing on her porch in the open doorway. "You never answered my other question?"

Bonnie arched an incredulous eyebrow. He was teasing her, she knew. But at the blatant challenge in his gaze, she squared up to him.

"Damon, a story that can't be brought to its end shouldn't be written in the first place. And if at all one has started, then all the pages must be torn and burnt."

Damon frowned. Witches and their damn riddles.

"So that means you wouldn't be interested?"

The last thing he saw was Bonnie's amused smile, before the door slammed shut in his face.

**TBC**

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**AN 2: **Once again, thank you _Merlin_ for providing the incantation. No copyright infringement intended. I had great fun writing this chapter. I hope you have as much fun reading it!


	12. Tough Love

**Author's note: **I'm not exactly happy with this chapter. Time was short so it's unedited. Characterisation and character development was my big worry with this one. And truthfully, it feels a bit of a mess. I imagine things but I'm powerless to execute. Despite my lack of confidence over it, I couldn't wrestle with it any longer and I didn't want to keep you all waiting till Doomsday. So I pushed through. On a more up-beat note, thank you so much everyone for your reviews, favourites, follows, and all round enthusiastic readership! You guys inspire me, you make me want to keep writing, and to write better.

**Disclaimer: **Still own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

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**10**

**TOUGH LOVE**

In 1955, the Rose &amp; Crown was built on the original site of Fell's Church. Much of the gothic architecture and stained art glass had been retained, while some of the pews had been converted into benches for booths. It was an unusual mish-mash of Victorian and Beatnik styles, so that you could imagine Oscar Wilde sitting in one corner and Jack Kerouac occupying the other.

Unlike most of the college town's coffee houses, cramped full with unruly students, this place was quiet. Damon dumped Bonnie at an empty table and then wandered away to flirt with the buxom barista that had been eyeing him since they entered the place. He had evidently grown fed up of her grumpiness.

Bonnie had been in a foul mood all day.  
She woke up in the middle of the night, screaming like a woman on fire, as the night terrors returned and her vampire ganger painted dreams full of carnage and blood. She hadn't gone back to sleep after that and was tired and cranky when her alarm finally went off at seven am.

The rest of the morning she spent trying to keep awake in classes and snapping at everyone like a bear with a sore paw. Rudy Mills just made one careless comment about "Bennett pmsing" and well, Mr. Vergara wouldn't believe that he didn't deliberately use extra bicarbonate again to make his solution blow up in his face.

"This is your last warning, Mills," the stern-faced Chemistry teacher wrote it up. "Next time, you're looking at a detention."

Stefan, however, gave her a sly smile and her lips twitched; a brief moment of levity in an otherwise cheerless day.

She got through the rest of her classes and cheer practise without incident. When Caroline finally dismissed the squad, Bonnie headed straight for her car. She wanted nothing more than home and a hot bath, so she wasn't happy to see Damon waiting for her in the school parking lot.

His blue eyes widened when he saw her, a thin sheen of sweat making her skin glisten in the early twilight. He eyed her legs appreciatively in the short shorts she wore for practise.

"We're going to Whitmore," Damon opened the passenger door.

"What?"

"We gotta see a professor about a medallion. Let's go Judgey; I want to get there before dark," He casually strolled round to the driver's side. "And before you argue, need I remind you what happened the last time you bailed on me?"

"You're blaming me for what happened with Kai?"

"You could have helped."

"I could have made things worse," She huffed and climbed into the front seat. "You don't know that my being there wouldn't have screwed things up even more." Now she was arguing just for the sake of arguing.

This didn't bode well for the rest of the journey.

They ended up spending the hour-long drive sniping at each other, almost as bad as when they first met. By the time they arrived, Bonnie was silently fuming and Damon wasn't too far from the edge either. It didn't help matters when they learned that Professor Anderson was away on sabbatical for the next three months.

Damon had just wasted an hour of her life.  
His eyes widened and his nostrils flared when she accused him of this. Then he grabbed her by the elbow, half hauling her down the street. They darted into the darkened coffee shop and he promptly ditched her. She'd finally pushed Damon Salvatore past his limit.

Bonnie ran her finger idly over the woodwork, tracing intricate carvings and peeling gold petals as she silently railed against the injustice of being stuck with such a rude, inconsiderate, pushy, arrogant-

Her mind returned to the present when a familiar, delicious aroma scented the air.

"French vanilla," Damon slid the cup of coffee towards her. He had noticed her drinking it whenever she was out at the Grill.  
"You bought me coffee?" Her voice coloured with surprise.

"Thought it might cheer you up," he dropped into the seat opposite her.

Bonnie stared down at the cup guiltily. He hadn't left her to chat up some waitress. He was trying to do something nice for her when she had done nothing but tear into him all afternoon. He wasn't responsible for her nightmares. But she had taken her temper out on him all the same.

"Thank you, Damon," She gave him a sincere, shy smile and he must have recognised the silent apology in her words.

The tension between them finally eased as Bonnie took a sip. And nearly choked. She struggled to keep her expression neutral and her eyes almost crossed with the effort.

"What's the matter?" He frowned.

"Did you...uh...put sugar in this?"

"Yeah. You don't like it?"

He sounded so uncharacteristically earnest and Bonnie didn't have the heart to tell him.

"It's fine," She blurted unconvincingly.

"I can take it back."

"No, no. I'm good; really." She raised the cup to her lips pointedly and drank, managing not to grimace this time.

Damon smirked. She hated it. But there was something oddly endearing about her unusual desire to spare his feelings. He knew then that she was trying to make up for the attitude she'd had with him.

A bell chimed as the door to the coffee bar swung open and he stiffened, his features suddenly like thunder.

"Son of a bitch," He practically growled.

It only took Bonnie a moment to see what had prompted his reaction. A man had just strolled into the café. He was short and as thin as a rake, with oiled blond hair. He looked both harmless and a fool. He was neither.

He started to head towards the main counter when he noticed them, smiled and changed direction, heading straight for their table.

"Damon Salvatore, alive and well," He grinned broadly and dragged a chair to join them.

"No thanks to you," the vampire spat. "You've got a lot of fucking nerve."

"Would this have anything to do with the other day?"

"You mean, when you set me up with a psychotic vampire, stole the medallion and left me to die."

Bonnie's eyes widened.

"This is McCullough?" Her agile mind quickly put the pieces together.

"I see my reputation precedes me," He winked at the witch. "You can call me Art. Want to tell me your name, sweet tits?"

Bonnie threw up in her mouth.

"Talk to her again, I'll rip your throat out," Damon meant it. He didn't care that they were in public. He would just compel any witnesses. But if this scumbag so much as looked at the little witch the wrong way...

McCullough must have picked up the danger signals because he backed off.

"Take it easy Salvatore," He raised his hands in surrender. "I'm just appreciating a pretty lady."

Damon growled. "Why are you here, Art?"

"I'm on my way to Mystic Falls actually. Gotta make a delivery," He adjusted the backpack he was carrying. "And I get that you might be a little sore over the whole Kai thing. You and me have been friends a long while," Damon snorted derisively, "so let me make it up to you."

"Great. You can give me my medallion back," the vampire snapped.

"Yeah...that's not gonna happen. We were more like acquaintances anyway, than friends," the smuggler backpedalled. "But," He pulled out his phone, rapidly scanning through the gallery, "I can tell you what you need to know." He stopped on an image and zoomed in, positioning the phone so they could both see. It was a photo of the medallion.

"See that?" He pointed to the screen. "The two-headed eagle is the seal of Vigil."

"Vigil?"  
McCullough's eyes grew crafty and he began to explain. Bonnie listened to him with wondering eyes, her mind convulsed in turmoil. Damon harrumphed.

His speech concluded. The smuggler shrugged. "Don't say I never did anything for you."

* * *

Damon was beginning to understand how Alice must have felt falling down the rabbit hole. The more he and Bonnie learned, the less they actually seemed to know. It was ridiculous. They were on the outskirts of loony land now.

"You live in a world where vampires, witches and werewolves are a part of everyday life. Yet this is a stretch for you?" Bonnie had eyed him sceptically.

He had responded with his usual sarcasm, which earned him an eye roll, before descending into contemplative silence for the rest of the drive; each aware of the other, but preoccupied with their own thoughts.

Damon had always considered himself worldly and sophisticated; a man who knew about the world. But this? He'd never even considered. And Lockwood of all people? It didn't compute. Except that it did. And he knew Bonnie had been right when she said that this was far from over. Lockwood had been into something big enough to draw Mikael Mikaelson's attention. Damon had never met the original patriarch, thank god. But he had heard enough stories about Mikael "The Destroyer" to know that he was not someone you wanted to tangle with, nor did he spend his time on careless pursuits.

But he was too tired to consider it further now. Between Bonnie getting her bitch on and Art McCullough's unwelcome reappearance, Damon felt he'd been stretched a little thin.

He walked into the boarding house and immediately picked up a familiar heartbeat.

Elena was here. His heart warmed at the prospect of seeing the object of his affections.

However, the smile on his face dropped when his keen hearing picked up a few threads of conversation.

"I know we had our problems, Stefan. And Damon and I...we have...there's a connection. But that doesn't mean what you and I share-"

"Elena, are you listening to yourself?" Stefan cut her off. The younger Salvatore made an exasperated noise. "I don't even know why we started talking about this. You know where we stand. I'm moving on."

"I don't understand, Stefan. I don't get how you could just walk away," Elena spoke in a small, hurt voice. "After everything we've shared, you know what we mean to each other."

"I know what you've shown me, Elena," Stefan sighed and his voice softened. "That you're kind and compassionate. Loving and brave, and sweet and generous. But you're also weak," his voice hardened, "and changeful; easily open to persuasion, first one way and then the other. And you're a little bit selfish. Despite all that, I could still love you. But I don't want to." He released a harsh breath and when he spoke again, his voice was weary. "I'm too old, Elena. Too tired. And I can't do this again - I won't. Not to myself or to my brother."

"So that's it? You and me, nothing more than a memory?"

Damon didn't wait to hear his brother's response.  
What had been a sanctuary moments ago, now felt like a cell. And he needed out. The hurt and panic that Elena still cared for his brother was beginning to fade, and being rapidly replaced by fury, both with himself...and with her.

Grabbing his leather jacket, he deliberately slammed the door shut on his way out.

* * *

Less than an hour later the storm arrived.

Stefan had been writing in his diary, trying to untangle the emotions his conversation with his ex-girlfriend had ruffled, when his phone rang.

"Elena, I really don't think there's anything more to say," He sighed into the phone. He paused. "Elena?"

Something was wrong. She sounded upset.

Ten minutes later, he was standing in the Gilberts' kitchen looking at a very large, very angry hole in the dry wall.

Jeremy was busy ordering some of his sister's favourite take-out, hoping to cheer her up. While he was on the phone, Elena told Stefan what had happened.

Damon had been at the boarding house earlier and overheard their conversation. He had then turned up at the Gilbert home and confronted her. It seemed his brother had decided he had been patient long enough with Elena and her reticence over her feelings for him. Damon asked Elena if she loved him. And Elena put the cat among the pigeons, good and proper, by telling him that she cared very deeply for him.

And Damon said, very good, but did she _love _him?  
And Elena said that she believed he had a good heart and they have a real connection.  
I know all that, Damon scornfully told her, but do you love me?  
You know I have feelings for you, Elena answered, starting to get annoyed. But not as annoyed as Damon.  
Answer me, yes or no, his brother demanded, DO. YOU. LOVE. ME.  
Elena hesitated, then angrily refused to be forced into an ultimatum and Damon lost it.  
He yelled at her, she yelled back at him. Cue shattered dreams, hole punched in dry wall, departure of Damon from the Gilbert house and Stefan's arrival.

"He really scared me," Elena's voice was hoarse with hurt; her doe eyes wide and sad. "I've never seen him like that. Not to me. He's always been different with me."

Stefan put his hand to his forehead, as if he had a headache. This was exactly why he had walked away.

"I'm sorry you had to go through this tonight," He said kindly. "Are you going to be alright?"

"I'm better now. Thank you, Stefan. It means a lot to me, that you're here. Even after..." She looked at him shyly.

"I will always be your friend, Elena," He got to his feet. "But I now, I have to go."

"Where? After Damon?"

Stefan nodded. "I need to make sure he's okay. That he doesn't hurt himself, or someone else," the younger vampire frowned.

Elena scrambled off the couch. "I'll come with you."

Stefan looked at her sceptically. He was positive that Elena coming with him would only make things worse. Damon was in a volatile mood and her presence, so soon after their altercation, would likely antagonise him further. That settled it then.

"No," Stefan said firmly. "I know you mean well, but right now, the last place you need to be is anywhere near Damon."

"I care about him. And it's partly my fault," she protested. "I only want to help."

"Then stay here," He hoped she would listen to him.

But Elena was stubborn when she got an idea into her head. She started arguing again and Stefan was getting impatient. Every minute he spent arguing with Elena, was another minute Damon could be tearing into some poor, unsuspecting civilian.

He didn't have time for this.

"Alright," He said finally, praying that this wasn't a mistake. "You can come with. But you let me handle my brother."

They were out the door a minute later.

* * *

That evening Bonnie sat at her kitchen table, stubbornly fighting back exhaustion, so she could go over the evidence.  
The seal of Vigil. A rank of the Knights Templar and so much more than the history books had ever taught her. This was a secret order that had been defending humanity from the forces of evil for centuries; passing their sacred duty from father to son, generation to generation. She had no doubt that the Lockwood family was a part of this legacy.

It explained why she had seen Emily go to George Lockwood for help, and her mysterious words to him: _I am trusting you, Mr. Lockwood, to protect and ensure the hope for our future._ But what had she trusted him with? _Then we will continue as we are. And hide this evil where none may ever find it. Where __**he**__ may never discover it._

George Lockwood had been talking about Mikael Mikaelson.  
Why else would the vampire have gone after Tyler? He must have assumed that Tyler, like his uncle, knew the secrets of the order. She recalled Caroline's words: _I overheard him having an argument with Tyler's dad. Something to do with an inheritance. They were talking about a family heirloom. _Mason had gone to his brother for help. But Richard Lockwood had obviously not embraced his heritage the way his younger brother had. He probably had no intention of ever telling Tyler either.

But Mason had committed his life to the order.  
He was an archaeologist, which gave him ideal access to all the ancient, dangerous artefacts that could otherwise fall into the wrong hands. All his travels around the world; Bonnie wondered how many of those trips had really been spent fighting secret battles, warding off the darkness. But Mason knew he had gotten in over his head and so he had tried to get a message to another knight, Joseph Bell.

She looked at the innocuous postcard and the photo of the medallion McCullough had left them with. The two items suddenly took on a whole new meaning. _They operate at the height of discretion, _McCullough had said. She studied the hastily scrawled message on the card:

_2010-03-27_

_Dear Dad_

_Having a lovely time, visited the Hermitage Museum which was splendid. Weather's been a little moody. Look forward to seeing you._

_Love Tom xxx_

Bonnie frowned.  
_A secret order. They operate at the height of discretion. _Her jade eyes widened. Of course. A code. It had to be. Mason told Tyler to take the items to Joseph Bell. But he had to put certain safeguards in place, in case the envelope fell into the wrong hands. So somewhere in this mundane message was a way to find and contact Joseph Bell. She inhaled sharply. They were so close. So close to figuring what all of this was about. Tyler's abduction, what Emily and George Lockwood had been protecting, Mason's secret work, Nelia Somerset and the manor murders. Yes, she was quite sure that was a part of this too.

If the Lockwoods were members of the Knights Templar, then Charles Lockwood's involvement in the 1756 murder inquest could not be a coincidence. Not when a werewolf, a vampire and a witch had also been present. She remembered the vision of her father and Klaus: _We cannot submit to him, brother. You and Belle finish it. I will buy you as much time as I can. _

She rubbed a hand across her forehead, her heart suddenly heavy with the weight of discovery. But she forced that persistent nagging sense of dread to the back of her mind. Whatever the outcome, she was committed now. And there was work to be done. Stifling a yawn, she started to go over her notes on Henry Fell's 1756 report when her phone rang.

"Hey Matt," she tried to inject some energy into the greeting. She was so tired.

"_Bon, I think you should get down to the Grill."_

"What's happened?" She was immediately on alert at the urgent tone of his voice. At his answer, her entire body tensed and her eyes narrowed.

"I'm on my way," She said quietly.

She and Matt hung up, and Bonnie made a beeline for the front door. She tugged her jacket on with a lot more force than necessary and grabbed her keys.

"Damon Salvatore," she muttered, locking the door behind her. "I'm going to kick your ass."

* * *

It was almost too easy.

Even without compulsion, all he had to do was flash a smile, crook his finger, and the girl was all over him. He tugged her after him, leading them to the alley behind the Grill and pushed her up against the rough brick wall. Her blood smelled delicious; her bouquet was jasmine tea and the powdered sugar and lemon she'd ordered on her crepes earlier. Damon felt his fangs drop and his veins ripple, excitement coursing through him at the prospect of the coming kill.

"Damon!"

At the sound of her voice, the vampire instantly spun round, keeping the girl against him; her back to his front; his hand wrapped loosely around her throat. Stefan and Elena stood in front of him, both looking at him as though he were a wounded animal that might lash out at their approach. That just pissed him off.

"Hello, brother dear," He sounded so angry...and bitter.

Damon had torn out of the Gilbert residence like a bat out of hell, Elena's words ringing in his ears. She blamed him for her failed relationship with Stefan and basically told him that he had only gotten her by default. Elena hadn't used those words exactly, but she may as well have. Because that's what it felt like. And now here she was, less than an hour after everything had imploded, with Stefan. Of course. He might have known she'd go running to his little brother. Even when Stefan lost, he still won. That was just the way of the world.

"Damon, you don't have to do this," Stefan tried to reason with him. "Just let the girl go."

The anger rising rapidly, his blood starting to simmer, the elder Salvatore didn't even hesitate. He dropped his fangs, as swift and deadly as a rattlesnake's, into her neck and severed her carotid artery. He drained her in a matter of seconds. Stefan tried to charge him but a diet of animal blood did him no favours. Damon was stronger and quicker, and he easily had his little brother in a headlock.

"Damon, please stop this," Elena pleaded with him. Her eyes were soft and imploring. "I know you're a good person. Just trust me. Let Stefan go."

His grip on his brother tightened. "Do you honestly have any idea of who I am? What I'm capable of?" Damon said darkly. "You gave me hope and then you took it away. That's enough to make anybody dangerous; God knows what it will do to me."

There was a sickening snap. Elena screamed.

Damon dropped his brother's limp body and took off into the night. He didn't look back.

* * *

"He fed on her...he killed her," Elena struggled not to cry. "Right in front of me. He didn't even care. And then Stefan...he was only trying to help...and he snapped his neck. Just like that, like it was nothing. He hurt him."

Bonnie silently cursed as she looked at the vampire's unconscious form. Matt had snuck them into the back room, letting Stefan rest on an improvised bed of overturned wooden boxes. He'd balled his jacket under Stefan's head for a makeshift pillow.

"I'm so sorry Elena," Bonnie squeezed her friend's hand. "I can only imagine how awful that must have been. But you know he's going to be okay, right? In a few hours, he'll wake up."

The pretty brunette nodded. "I'm going to stay with him until he wakes up," Elena said, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I just want to be sure that he's..." She trailed off and Bonnie nodded in understanding.

"Matt," She turned to her best friend. "Do you think you can get them to the boarding house?"

"Sure. But Bon, what we do about the body?" He shifted on his feet uncomfortably.

The teenage witch sighed. "Call it in."

Matt's eyes widened. "You sure about that?"

"It'll look worse if we don't," Bonnie reasoned. "Call Liz Forbes and report it. Hopefully Damon," Elena tensed at the mention of his name, "at least had the sense to compel any witnesses to forget seeing him with the girl. We can't do anything to hide the cause of death; Liz'll know. But the council will take it from there, and I don't think there's any way for it to be traced back to Damon. He can just run interference if there is."

"Why are you so concerned about protecting, Damon?" Elena said suddenly, her eyes narrowed.

Bonnie didn't like the note of accusation in her friend's tone. But she let it go. Elena was understandably upset and more than a little shell-shocked after the night's events.

"I'm just trying to do damage control," she responded evenly. "An angry mob coming after Damon isn't going to help anything. Speaking of which, I should probably go find him."

Elena's eyes widened in alarm. "You can't go after him on your own! Stefan and I tried, and he turned on me," she was still incredulous. She had always been able to get through to Damon, to tame him. It was part of the connection they shared. And yet, she hadn't been able to reach him tonight. Damon had been dismissive and outright cruel to her.

"I can handle myself...and Damon," Bonnie said. She pulled Elena into a quick hug. "I'll check in with you later, ok? You too, Mattie. And thanks."

Matt gave her a stern look. "Be careful, Bon. If I don't hear from you by midnight, I will come hunt you down."

She gave him a grateful smile. "I'm counting on it."

* * *

He bounced on his feet watching for any sign of headlights. At last, a black SUV appeared at the top of the ridge and crawled down the hill towards the abandoned farmhouse. The car drew to a stop and a young man got out.

"Arthur McCullough?"

"Only my ex-wife and guys with a warrant call me that," The smuggler stroked his greasy nose.

"You have it?"

McCullough reached into his backpack and handed his stone-faced companion a small, square leather case. He quickly opened it to inspect the merchandise: a silver medallion bearing the seal of Vigil.

Satisfied, he snapped the case shut and wordlessly turned to leave. McCullough frowned.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

The man already had the driver side door open.

"Check your bank account. It's already done," He climbed into the vehicle. "On behalf of Miss Pierce, I thank you Mr. McCullough."

* * *

She tracked him to Mystic Woods.  
A small group of high school students were having a drinking party and Bonnie knew why he had picked this spot: Damon wanted to hunt. Using her magic, Bonnie tried to extend her field of vision the way she had in the tunnels, this time searching for one specific figure. And she found him. Stalking round the edge of the campsite, he lay in wait for the first unsuspecting victim.

Bonnie took off at a run through the trees, only slowing her approach when she was a few metres behind him. Damon stood deathly still. She knew he had to be aware of her presence; his vampire senses would have picked up on her heartbeat and vaguely heavy breathing. She stopped about a foot away from him.

"So the cavalry's arrived," His tone was cold, unfeeling, as he finally turned to face her. "I wondered when you'd show up."

Bonnie wasn't fooled for a moment. His grip on his passions, his needs, his deepest fears must have been loosened this evening and this was merely the calm before the storm.

"Tell me, Bonnie," He sneered, intentionally making his words a weapon, "do you ever get tired of cleaning up after Elena's leftovers? Always the best friend; never the girlfriend."

He was clenching and unclenching his fingers now, radiating intensity. Damon was itching for a fight. And Bonnie realised that, in this moment, she was dealing with a vampire. Appealing to his sense of reason, trying to talk him down, wouldn't work. His baser, latent dominant instincts had come out in full force and trying to violently push that side of his nature away, forcing him to bury it, would only make the inevitable eruption that much worse. If she wanted to calm the beast, she had to let him out.

"Okay," she removed her jacket, tossing it carelessly to the ground, "Okay," her keys joined her jacket and she pulled her hair up into a messy ponytail. "You're looking for a fight? Bring it Salvatore," she challenged.

"You don't know what you're asking," His voice was thick.

The vibes Damon was generating were primitive, animalistic and Bonnie felt a brief shiver of trepidation at what she was about to do. But she pushed on. Whether it were her own latent vampire instincts kicking in, or something else entirely borne of the time she had spent with Damon, and what she was starting to understand about him, Bonnie instinctively knew that she was doing the right thing.

"I do," Her voice was firm, resolved. "I'm not a child. And I'm not like Elena. I can take whatever you've got."

He was tempted. She could tell. A smoulder had ignited in his eyes, the familiar blackened veins were starting to ripple, and the muscles of his body had tensed up visibly.

"Bonnie," he said, a familiar edge of warning in the one word.

"What's the matter Damon?" She sneered. "Are you that much of a coward, you can only attack me when I'm defenceless? When I'm not expecting it?" She gave a derisive snort. "It's pathetic."

Damon attacked.  
She blocked it, barely, and he lashed out again, continuing to strike out at her. He did land a few punches and at one point Bonnie slammed her foot into his abdomen. Damon growled but before he could retaliate, thousands of hot needles pierced through his brain as stars burst through his vision. His hands delved into his hair as he blindly barrelled into her, forcing her up against a tree. The move broke her concentration and stopped her attack.

Damon took advantage of her distraction, seizing her wrists and pinning her arms up. She bit him. She sank her teeth into his wrist and Damon yelped in surprise, before Bonnie drove her knee into his stomach. He landed on his knees, coughing, and she seized the opening to move away from him. But Damon recovered quickly and yanked her back to him, refusing to let go.

They were chest to chest now. She was panting and flushed; there was a cut on her forehead from when he'd knocked her down before. Damon was squeezing her so tightly she was sure she was going to crack a rib. His nostrils flared primitively, his eyes were bleeding red with fury, and a muscle in his jaw was twitching. But his intensity was changing. Something else was beginning to bleed into his enraged gaze, something that looked a lot like-

She didn't get a chance to complete the thought as Damon crushed her lips with his. Bonnie was not prepared for the electricity that suddenly coursed between them. She struggled against him and, at the same time, wanted to melt into him. It was horrifying. But Damon was insistent; his kiss was a battle and Bonnie remembered what this was about, realized what he was trying to do.

Jade eyes flashed gold and the vampire was sent hurtling back, crashing hard against a tree.

"What the hell, Judgey?" Damon roared, immediately speeding back into her personal space. Bonnie didn't even flinch.

"You don't get to use me like that, Damon," She glared at him. "I'm not a bargain basement stand-in for somebody else...and neither are you."

The wind was picking up and whipping her hair into her face. Her words resonated loudly in the thick silence between them as they stared at each other. Sanity, such as it was, began its reluctant return and they were just Damon and Bonnie again.

"So we're back to the pop psychology?" He sounded tired and reluctant.

Bonnie scowled. "I don't care if it sounded like pop psychology. The fact is, when an intelligent, experienced, complex man has feelings for a girl that smack of some Freudian cliché, maybe it's time for him to consider whether or not those feelings are real."

"You don't understand."

"I understand that you're a manipulative bastard, and a doomed romantic who's displaced his need for validation and his need to be loved, on a small-town girl who happens to be a dead ringer for the woman who was supposed to love him, but left him," She paused to catch her breath. "And if I understand anything I understand anger. Because I understand what it feels like to be rejected. Don't think I don't understand loneliness too. Is that what you want for the next hundred years?"

He didn't answer and Bonnie sighed.

"I can't stop you from destroying yourself Damon, but I'm not going to let you take the rest of us down with you. Next time you decide to lose your shit all over this town, I won't be so nice."

The vampire snorted. "This is nice? Oww!" The witch zapped him with her magic.

"This is me telling you to get your ass in gear and sort yourself out," She retorted. The adrenalin was fading and exhaustion was starting to set in. Bonnie figured she'd done all she could for one night; she was ready to get out of there. Gathering up her belongings, she turned to leave.

"You coming?" She held her hand out to the vampire.

Damon blinked and wordlessly slipped her much smaller hand into his own. They walked in silence, Damon half dazed as the intensity of the night's emotions finally caught up to him. No matter how hard he tried to hold on, it all just seemed to fall out of his grip.

Control. Life. Sanity.

Bonnie's grip on his hand tightened; her clasp warm and firm, reassuring. He gave her a slanting look, but her gaze was focused on the path ahead. And inexplicably, Damon felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe his world would fall irrevocably through his desperate clutch. But maybe, this time, he'd have someone there when it did; someone who wouldn't let him slip away.

**TBC**

* * *

**AN 2: Thanks for reading!**


	13. Family Matters

**Author's note: **Firstly, to everyone, reading, reviewing, favouriting or following, I cannot thank you guys enough. Your continued support has been more than anyone could ask for. I have the best readers in the world!

Secondly, I know my name is mud around here for taking 80 years to update. I'm so sorry about that. This chapter was a tough one to get out. It delves into some of the mythology of my story's universe. So it took a lot longer to work out and make sure I wasn't setting anything up now that would bite me later, or punch holes in the narrative.

That said, suspend disbelief, prepare to abandon logic, and embrace the absurdity and ridiculousness of my witchy wonderland!

Just a head's up, some offensive language and a little (very, very little) sexually suggestive scene in this chapter. Nothing too explicit. No more than a strong T.

**Disclaimer:** Own absolutely nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

**11**

**FAMILY MATTERS**

Damon tried not to give into the growing sense of trepidation the deeper into the woods they got. But every horror film he'd ever watched and mocked told him that this scenario never ended well.

At 7pm, on Friday evening, Bonnie Bennett made a routine trip to pick up a pint of double chocolate chip and never came back. Car abandoned in the parking lot. Melting ice-cream beginning to attract the local wildlife. The idiots never thought to check in with her.

"Don't talk to her like that, Damon," Elena glared at him.

"There's no other response to such pathetic behaviour," He spat. "Shit, you of all people should have some kinda _sixth _fucking_ stalking sense,_ by now. You didn't find it strange when you didn't hear from her?"

"Bonnie said she was going to stop at the Grill and say hi to Matt," Caroline defended them. "We just figured they got caught up."

"For two hours?" Damon sneered.

"Why are you even here?" the irate blonde eyed him suspiciously. "She's _our_ friend."

"And a bang up job you've been doing with that."

"Guys," Matt tried to intervene, "This really isn't helping."

His words fell on deaf ears as the screaming match in the Forbes living room continued.

Stefan only just managed to stop Caroline from hurling their chicken dinner at his head. And that was due, in part, to the timely arrival of Bonnie's grandmother. Sheila Bennett swept through the house as regal and commanding as an Amazonian Queen. Even Damon struggled not to fidget under the elder Bennett's scrutiny. Caroline looked embarrassed and contrite. Elena started to apologise but Sheila waved her off.

"Mr. Salvatore," her steely gaze fixed on the raven-haired vampire, "a word in private – now."

She turned on her heel and Damon reluctantly trailed after her.

"Would it be too much to ask where we're going?" He attempted to speak politely. No need to further antagonise the witch.

"I'm surprised you don't recognise it," Sheila slanted a glance at him. "After all, you were there the day of Emily Bennett's execution. Spirits talk, Mr. Salvatore," She added, seeing his surprised expression.

"You're taking us to the witches' house."

"What's left of it."

Damon understood her bitterness. He had witnessed the murder of those women. If he allowed himself to, he could still see their bodies, beaten and broken, burning on the pyres; hear their anguished screams. All but Emily. She never uttered a sound. Even in death, she had been bold and defiant. She would not be broken. Damon had never looked at Emily as anything other than Katherine's lady's maid. But in that moment, in spite of the heartbreak, the cruelty and injustice of what was happening, she had stood above them all.

Sheila brought the car to a stop and they got out.

"Get those out of the boot," she popped the trunk and walked ahead of him towards the colonial ruins.

Damon grumbled to himself but he did as he was told, if only because Sheila seemed to have an idea of how to find Bonnie. Besides, he didn't think his little vamp-witch would take it too well if he took a bite out of her grandmother.

"Put it down there."

"You know," Damon gritted out, "I don't mind moving this stuff," that was a lie. "But I resent the fact that you just assume I'll do it. A little courtesy would be nice."

Sheila arched a sceptical eyebrow.

"I didn't think you cared for manners, Damon. Since most of the time you seem to forget yours."

"I didn't think you cared for me. You made it clear in the past you want nothing to do with me. But here we are. Why?"

Something in Sheila's hard gaze changed, but it didn't soften in any way. Instead, it took on a strangely intense and searching resonance. "You know the truth about Bonnie and you've been helping her." It wasn't a question.

Damon opened his mouth, but no words came out. He had absolutely no idea what he could say to that.

"I know my granddaughter," Sheila continued. "She's clever and stubborn. So she's not going to let something go even if I tell her to. Bonnie has always had a mind of her own. I don't like you, Mr. Salvatore," Damon watched as the elder Bennett witch set up some sort of altar, "And I sure as hell don't trust you. But for some reason my granddaughter does. Bonnie chose you. So for her sake, do you think we can put aside our differences? For the time being at least."

Damon cocked his head, studying the older witch curiously.

"How long have you known?"

"Since the morning you visited outside her window."

Well shit. He had thought he was being stealthy and discreet. But Bonnie had warned him that Grams would be able to sense him. He had underestimated the Bennetts.

Swallowing over his discomfort, Damon nodded towards the altar.

"What are we doing here, exactly?"

"All my spells to find Bonnie have failed. Wherever she is, she's with a witch smart enough to put up some sort of barrier. My magic just bounces off. However, the dead aren't limited by the same boundaries as the living."

"Again with the riddles," He grumbled impatiently. "In English please, I don't speak witchy."

"I want to let the spirits channel you."

* * *

**Bonnie began to inhale** deeply, waking herself from sleep.

Blinking a few times to gain focus, her mind worked rapidly to help her realize where she was and how long she had been confined to this place.

Despite its modest size, the room was very elegant. All the furnishings were made of the same light, polished wood and finished with carved mouldings that reminded Bonnie of flowing water. The bed had been placed by the windows and lying back, she could see the stars.

So she had only lost a few hours then.

She remembered walking to her car and a sharp stinging sensation in her neck before the world faded to black. Whatever she'd been dosed with must have worn off as she gained her feet with little trouble, just as the door to the room swung open.

"Welcome back, love."

* * *

**Damon balked.**

"You wanna run that by me again?"

"It's perfectly simple, Damon. You said you were on the phone with Bonnie not long before she was taken," He nodded. "Whoever took Bonnie would have already been watching her then. So the spirits channel that memory, what you said, what you heard," Sheila explained, "and use it to get a read and find her."

"Couldn't you just use your psychic witchy juju to do the same thing? I'd rather have you than a bunch of dead witches poking around in my head, no offense," He looked around quickly at the ruins.

"I could. But I'd have to use a spell."

"Which won't work because of the barrier."

"You're a lot smarter than you look."

The vampire glared but Sheila merely lifted her brow expectantly.

"Alright, let's get this over with."

_Eala leofu sweoster, paem gastum befaeste ic pe._

A five-pointed star suddenly appeared on the ground before them. Sheila placed four porcelain chalices, each containing rose petals, semi-precious stones, melted candle wax and dried leaves, on the corners of the pentagram.

"Hail, fair Moon, ruler of the night, guard me and mine until the light. Hail fair Sun, ruler of the day, make the morn to light my way," She whispered the prayer and then instructed Damon to stand in the centre of the star.

"Give me your hands."

The vampire looked suspiciously at the vial Sheila held.

"It's oil from the ambergris and anise plants," She explained. "Ambergris is an awakener. It opens the door to affairs of the mind and heart. Anise is for purification and to increase psychic abilities."

"So basically, it's gonna help hook me up with free cable, so the spirits can do some surfing?"

"That's one way of putting it but, essentially, yes."

Still a little wary, Damon let the witch anoint his hands with oil.

"Are you ready?"

At the vampire's nod, Sheila placed one more chalice, containing a smudge of dandelion root, on the fifth point of the star. She lit the smudge and then began the incantation.

_Ahlúttre pá séocnes. Purh- haele braed._

Damon had expected it to hurt or for there to be some sort of blood magic involved. But Sheila merely kept reciting the incantation and a pleasant white heat began to spread through him, vibrating outwards from the centre of his chest to the very tips of his fingers and toes. He felt weightless; like he was floating. The forest, the altar, Sheila...all a blur. He was standing in a cave, surrounded by crystals.

If he looked closely, he could see images. Flashes. They were memories. His memories.

Of Bonnie.

Bonnie drinking coffee at the Grill...biting her lip...the night he attacked her...her ironic smile when she teased him...cowering before the little witch as she set his head on fire...fetching him a bucket when he couldn't stop throwing up...bleeding after he tore her neck...eyes so bright they sparkled in the dark...sitting with him in that seedy Dublin motel, telling him he was going to live...fighting...teasing...smirking...scolding...hurting...healing...

He searched the crystals for his most recent memory.

_Bonnie rolled her eyes, her phone between her shoulder and ear as she tried to put her groceries in the backseat._

"_What's cooking in that head of yours, Damon?"_

"_I don't cook," He scoffed. "It's my job to feed."_

"_Liar."_

There was a prickling sensation at the back of his neck. Tiny sparks popping against his skin. He could hear Sheila chanting.

_Ahlúttre pá séocnes. Purh- haele braed._

The image in the crystals changed.

"It's a house," He said. "Like a mansion. There's a crest; three roses in a circle of thorns. Ahh!" Damon clutched his head in alarm.

"What is it?"

"It's like I'm getting a message," the pounding in his temples eased up a little. "Some strange woman. She's blind. But she's writing a message, she's...she's looking right at me! It says, 'Under My Protection - NK'."

The crystals disappeared, the warmth faded and Damon felt his knees give out. He rolled on to his back, still lying in the centre of the pentagram, panting for breath he didn't need.

"What was that?"

Grams looked pissed.

"That fool boy," She burst out. "What is he thinking? Worrying me like this."

"Sheila?" But the Bennett matriarch didn't seem to hear him.

"I'm going to kill Niklaus."

* * *

**A small blur hurled towards him **and the werewolf found himself with a teenage witch buried in his arms.

She clung to him with relief, first that he was here and safe, and then for the fact that her own situation was not so perilous.

"Bonnie, its okay."

As quickly as she'd appeared in his arms she pulled back, and her embrace was replaced with a flurry of desperate blows.

"Okay? Okay!" Her eyes shot green fire as she spit the words at him. "I didn't hear from you for a week, Klaus. You tell me you're going after Henrik and Tyler, then nothing. He could have killed you! And now you've basically kidnapped me. What were you thinking?"

Despite her angry words, an unfamiliar warmth began to blossom in the werewolf as he let her pour out her fear. She was worried _about him_. She had been afraid _for him_. In only his time as a young child so briefly under his mother's wing, and then with Abby and Elijah, had he known the pleasure of having someone care for him. In the years since his brother's death, Klaus had been convinced it was a feeling he would never know again. But there it was – reflected in jade eyes that were so like her mother's. His heart clenched at the overpowering feeling of finding something that had seemed so irreversibly lost.

"Oh my God." The blood slowly drained from her face, returning the werewolf's attention to the present.

"Bonnie?"

"Everybody must be frantic."

Klaus instantly relaxed. He'd been worried that her sudden pallor and the slight sway of her body was an unanticipated side effect of the sedative. But this he'd been prepared for and he hurried to reassure her.

"No, they'll be alright. Idris made contact with Sheila. Your grandmother knows you're with me."

"Who's Idris?"

"A witch and ally. You'll meet her later."

For a moment, Bonnie felt relief. But then her mind played out the full meaning of his words.

"You drugged me!" She struck his chest; a glancing blow, more a release of emotion than an agent of any actual pain. Klaus caught her hand.

"I know Bonnie. And I'm sorry," He kissed her forehead lightly and she allowed herself to be comforted by the brotherly gesture. "It was a necessary precaution. We had to make it look like an abduction in case you were being followed. If Mikael has eyes on you, I couldn't risk him tailing you back here if I'd just sent for you."

"He has a vampire watching me," Bonnie admitted. "But I'm okay, I'm fine," she added quickly, seeing his dark expression. "Klaus please, we can talk about that later, I promise."

"I will hold you to that," He gave her a significant look.

She nodded. She knew he'd have questions. But he needed to answer a few things for her first, for instance...

"Where is here exactly?" Bonnie wondered.

"The Brotherhood of the Three Graces," the voice that spoke was not Klaus.

Bonnie arched her eyebrows at the figure casually leaning in the open doorway. He was swarthy with dark brown hair. His eyes were nearly black and very cheeky as he looked at her.

"Damn it Scotty," another voice, female this time, called up. "I told you not to barge in there," she sounded nearer and a moment later a young woman joined them. "Sorry Klaus," She frowned and smacked Scotty up the side of his head. Then she turned to Bonnie with a friendly but inquisitive gaze.

"So this is her? Your niece?" the girl tossed her long hair; jet black locks falling around her shoulders like a shawl.

Klaus gave a small smile and nodded.

"Bonnie, this is Aya. And that lump there is Scotty," he winked at her, ignoring Klaus's glare. "They, along with two more of their pack, helped me recover Tyler."

"Pack?" Bonnie looked between them, slightly wary. "So you're all werewolves?"

"That's right," Aya smiled at her kindly, sensing the young witch's unease. "Don't worry Bonnie. You have nothing to fear from us."

"There ain't many who can say that," Scotty put in his two cents worth.

Bonnie worried her bottom lip then seemed to come to a decision about something.

"If Klaus trusts you," She glanced at her uncle who gave an encouraging nod. "Then that's good enough for me." Her expression changed and she fixed him with a stern glare. "But no more supernatural roofies or, family or not, I won't hesitate to put the whammy on you."

"I like her already," Scotty chuckled.

Klaus didn't smile but he gave a playful tug on her ponytail.

"Oh my God!" His earlier words finally sinking in, she spun round to face him with wide eyes; hope and excitement shining in their emerald depths. "You rescued Tyler!"

"He's here," Klaus told her. "Would you like to see him?"

Bonnie didn't need to be asked twice.

* * *

**"How often do you need to drink?" **Kol looked up from the pale column of her neck, a little blood still dripping from his lips.

"Not as often as you'd think," He licked a line across her skin and idly pressed a kiss to the back of her head.

The girl twisted round to face him; her pupils wide and dilated.

"Where do you get it from?"

"I have a few mistresses who I trust. Not groupies or anything disgusting like that. And definitely no smokers or heavy drinkers. Makes the skin taste terrible. They smell even worse."

"Mistresses...?"

Kol looked his little pet over fondly and tweaked her nipple.

"Prostitutes, darling. Clean ones however."

The door opened.

"Still haven't learned not to play with your food," Henrik shook his head.

"Please tell me you're here to switch me out of wench-watch," Kol got off the chaise he'd been lounging on.

"Sorry, little brother. You're still on Katherine's detail. Speaking of which, Regis said her guy made the drop. Father sent me to collect."

Kol heaved a sigh and looked up at his brother with a slight pout. "Give me a minute."

He helped the dazed girl into her clothes, uttering a simple healing incantation for the wound on her neck. Then he compelled her to forget their entire encounter and gave her a tip for her next article before pushing her out the door.

"A journalist? Really Kol?"

"She was snooping around about the gang fight with Kovac. Believe me; I did us all a favour."

"By playing interview with a vampire?"

"So I had a little fun. Sue me."

"Just get the package. Father doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Kol disappeared into the next room. When he came back, he handed a small leather case to his brother. Carefully, Henrik took the medallion out. The silver metal wasn't cool as he had expected. It was warm and heavy.

"So this is it," Henrik traced the coin's unusual markings, "the price of a soul."

"That lily-livered swine, Salvatore, has no idea what he let slip through his fingers," Kol scoffed.

"Well don't drop your guard just yet," Henrik said, pinning his brother with a stern gaze. "We have no way to release it without the moonstone and the witch. Until then, we remain vigilant."

* * *

**"Is the food not good?" Klaus noticed** that the young witch seemed to be pushing her meal around on her plate.

"No, no," She said quickly, "it's not that. I just..." Bonnie trailed off, unsure how to proceed.

Klaus stopped reading and gave her his full attention.

"You are worried about Mr. Lockwood."

The teenage witch heaved a sigh.

Tyler had been drifting in and out of consciousness when she went to see him. In his wakeful moments, he had struggled to understand where he was and was still trying to fight the giants Sybilla had conjured to torment him. Keeping her movements slow and steady, Bonnie had reached for Tyler's hand and tried to calm his obvious distress.

"It's alright," She tried to assure him. "You're safe here."

He let her guide his arm back down to his side, somewhere in his brain recognising her words as truth. But he didn't relinquish his hold on her hand just yet.

"You must rest now," She continued. "Don't be scared. Just sleep." He'd lost consciousness again soon afterwards, settling into a fitful sleep.

"Should it be taking this long?"

"Reading a human soul is a delicate process," Klaus explained. "And Mr. Lockwood only just regained consciousness a day ago. He's still weak. This means Idris has to take even more care."

"And if we're wrong?" Bonnie looked at Klaus anxiously. "What if Sybilla _did_ manage to turn him and Tyler's soul is no longer his own?"

"Then we will find a way to get it back."

"Klaus..."

"Bonnie, there is no point in worrying about something that may not even come to pass. If the worst has occurred, I will do what I can to help you. But for now, I think these visions you had are a more pressing concern."

"Ah."

Some minutes passed, and all Bonnie could do was poke at her food with her fork, pushing the mussels around with a contemplative, creased brow.

Klaus sighed and looked his young niece over with a slight frown.

"Something else is weighing on your mind."

From the room next door they could hear Aya and Scotty arguing.

"You ate my ramen." _"It's family style."_ "Do I look like your family?"

The werewolf's lips twitched in amusement. But Bonnie remained tense.

She took a bite of paella and chewed slowly, as if her jaw hurt or the food tasted bad. Scotty was an excellent cook, so he knew it wasn't the food making her uncomfortable. Klaus was losing her, and that just wouldn't do.

"Bonnie, you can ask me anything you want to, and I will answer you honestly. I don't want this elephant in the room. Just...talk to me, okay?"

She peered up at him through her lashes.

"Earlier, when I told you about Emily and George Lockwood. You didn't seem surprised."

Klaus's mouth pursed.

"I had my suspicions about Emily. Because of her former mistress, Miss Pierce."

"You knew Katherine?"

"Regrettably so. Our paths crossed some two hundred years ago. The association did not end well. Not least because she stole something from me."

"What did she take?"

"A rare and powerful relic. You may have read about the moonstone in your grimoire."

Suddenly Klaus's gaze turned inwards and he no longer saw Bonnie.

"To wield a ring such as that would need considerable gifts. But that harlot was always reaching above her station. And this time she got much more than she bargained for."

He inclined his head towards her. "I told you my mother was a witch. Esther Mikaelson's powers could change day into night, turn the tides. Some legends say she could even stop time."

"What happened to her?"

"She was too powerful. Esther became obsessed with finding a way to defeat death itself. The life of the undead was not enough. But she was risking too much. So Elijah took it upon himself to stop her. We traced Esther to Mystic Falls and found a witch to help, your mother's ancestor."

"Marie Belle Bennett," Bonnie recalled the woman in her vision, with eyes so similar to her own.

"Together, we entombed Esther's body deep below the river. But her soul endured. So Marie Belle trapped her spirit beyond the veil. The spell claimed her life," he spoke with surprising bitterness.

Bonnie was taken aback. Marie Belle…Emily…her mother…she didn't know how to feel learning of yet another Bennett woman, struck down in her prime; all the lost days of another future that never got lived.

"Banish that thought, Bonnie," Klaus's voice was firm.

"I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to. I see in your eyes the same fear that would eat at me. You were questioning your fate. Wondering if you too will die as they did."

She flinched, suddenly touched by the cold hand of fear.

"That is not going to happen, I promise you," He sounded so certain.

"How can you know that?" Her voice was low, frightened.

"Because you are your father's daughter," Klaus said simply, something uncharacteristically fond and warm entering his voice. "I see so much of Elijah's spirit in you," He stared thoughtfully.

Elijah had been stronger. Elijah would have trained Bonnie and more than likely she would have come out more powerful than even Ayana. Elijah was the one brave enough to make them something better and break the Mikaelson curse.

"_If you were given a second chance, what would you do little brother? Who would you become now that you've realized you were stronger than you believed?"_

He could still hear Elijah's voice. Telling him to live. Telling him that he was meant for more.

_What would be waiting for me?_

"_Your future. Our future."_

Pain lanced through his chest as he recalled the words Elijah imparted to him, the night he faced Mikael, one last time.

"Mikael killed him, didn't he?"

Klaus's answering silence was all the reply she needed. Eventually he cleared his throat and spoke.

"_Live. And do what you were truly meant to do._ Those were Elijah's words to me, the last time I saw him alive," He looked pale and sweaty at the memory. "It's what he wanted for you, for all of us. And I'll be damned if I let Mikael, or Katherine, or any other person desecrate that promise."

They sat in silence, the space filled with their thoughts and memories swirling around them. Bonnie felt a stab of sadness. For the first time, she longed for her father. And not just some abstract idea or fantasy. She missed _Elijah_, missed knowing _him_. Outside, the argument was still going.

"You just had two helpings of paella!" _"So? When I'm bored, I eat."_ "You get bored a lot then, Scotty?" _"You callin' me fat!"_

Bonnie spoke first this time, turning the conversation back to Katherine and the moonstone.

"A binding ritual was a practice used by the Disir, the highest court of the Old Religion," Klaus explained. "Three women, chosen at birth, were trained to be able to interpret the word of the goddess, Qetsiyah," Bonnie recalled the name from her Grams' grimoire.

"The binding ritual requires three things: a blood sacrifice, a talisman, and the moonstone. It would either condemn the souls of those found wanting, or bring peace to restless spirits."

Bonnie frowned. "But if Esther's dead and you used this ritual to condemn her soul, then why are you worried?"

"Because her soul is still alive. The thing about the moonstone Bonnie, it doesn't only bind a soul. Dark magic can use it to release one."

"And Katherine stole it…and gave it to Emily."

"But before she had a chance to get it back," Klaus continued, "they were separated. It wouldn't have taken Emily long to work out what the moonstone was. And when she couldn't destroy it-"

"She went to George Lockwood for help," Bonnie realized, her vision of Emily starting to make sense. "If she knew about his family, about the Templar Knights, he would have been her best shot."

"The point is, thanks to Katherine, Mikael now knows about the moonstone. If he finds it, he'll release Esther's soul and she will rise again."

Bonnie stared at him, eyes wide with shock and disbelief. He could practically hear the hum, the whir, the ping, as her mind ticked over everything.

"Why did you never tell me about this before?" She demanded suddenly, feeling a familiar sense of anger begin to bubble up. Why was everyone so determined to keep her in the dark?

Klaus looked contrite. "I did not want to deceive you. Truthfully, I hoped I would have recovered the moonstone on my own, by now. Without needing to drag all this up."

"And do you know," She eyed him archly. "Where the moonstone is now?"

Bonnie swallowed hard. She was feeling too many things, her emotions about to spill over like a pot left too long on the stove. If he noticed, Klaus was good enough not to make any comment when, for a moment, the flames on the candles suddenly started hovering freely in space. Releasing a small gasp – that had never happened before – Bonnie dug her nails into her palm, trying to calm her emotions and get her magic under control.

"One man knew. And he died to protect it," She held her breath, waiting for him to continue.

"I believe Mason Lockwood learned the location of the moonstone," Klaus looked grave. "I tried to find him, but Mikael had got there first. God knows how long they tortured him before…"

**Crash!**  
_"You broke my plate!"_ "Be thankful it's not your head."

TBC

* * *

**AN 2: **My references to magic are based off my own superficial research into Wicca and also taken from the TV show _Merlin._ However, I may use some creative license and change things up for narrative purposes. No offense is meant to practicing Wiccans. And no copyright infringement intended.

Thanks for reading!


	14. Triskelion

**Author's note:** Thank you so much for all your lovely, generous comments! I haven't had a chance to respond to each review individually, but I'm getting there. To everyone reading, favouriting or following, words can't express how much it means to me that you've welcomed my little story with open arms.

It's a bit of a mixed bag with this chapter. Some parts of it I like, others I'm not wholly satisfied with. The tone also changes halfway through. I hope it still works but see what you make of it.

Also be aware: some violence and bad language in this chapter.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own a thing except for my OCs. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**12**

**TRISKELION**

The sharp sound of footfalls on the pristine wood floors alerted her to the approach of one of the werewolves. Bonnie quickly darted into a random room to conceal her presence.

After Idris had informed them that Tyler's soul was, indeed, still his own, Klaus had insisted she go to bed and get some rest. Bonnie doubted he'd be too pleased to find her wandering the corridors of the mansion past midnight.

She pressed her ear tightly to the door, waiting for the steps to pass her by.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?"

Startled at the soft voice, Bonnie spun round and knocked over a small vase of flowers resting on the sideboard. Her magic reacted instinctively and she could only stare in shock at the vase that was now frozen in space, water and daffodils suspended in mid-air.

"Very good," Idris murmured when she didn't hear the tell-tale shatter of glass.

The older witch gave a wave of her wrist and the vase of flowers righted itself again.

"I'm so sorry," Bonnie shifted on her feet awkwardly.

Her gaze darted between Tyler's unconscious figure on the bed, and the witch who was in the middle of performing some sort of healing spell. In the centre of the room a table was set with a few unlit candles, various herbs and a book that resembled her Grams' grimoire.

"I didn't mean to disturb you. I was just..."

"Hiding?"

"Klaus didn't want me up at all hours – he's really taking this protective uncle thing seriously," She half-grumbled. "I tried, but I couldn't sleep."

"No, I don't suppose you could," Idris spoke kindly, "not with everything that's gone on tonight."

Bonnie took a few more steps into the room. Standing over Tyler, she traced his face with concerned eyes. He seemed to be sleeping more peacefully now.

The sheets were folded back to rest on his waist and his shirt had been removed, leaving his bare chest and arms exposed. Peering more closely at his arm, she saw dozens of red marks beginning from his wrist and ending at his bicep. Her eyes widened in obvious shock. What had Mikael's witch done to him?

"An unfortunate interrogation practice," the witch appeared beside her. "You lock up the body's energy points so your victim is physically paralysed. I've been working to reverse the process. Tyler wasn't stable enough to do it before."

Bonnie swallowed hard.

"Will it hurt him?" She glanced warily at the red marks that looked so out of place on his skin.

"No," Idris gave her a reassuring smile, "and he'll feel a lot more comfortable afterwards. Don't worry. Your friend is young. He'll mend. Now," she tied a clean apron around her waist. "If you're up, are you going to make yourself useful?"

The teenager blinked.

"You want me to help you, with Tyler?" She bit her lip and bounced on the balls of her feet nervously. "I don't think I should. What if I get something wrong and end up hurting him?"

"You don't give yourself enough credit, Bonnie," Idris shook her head. "A gift like yours should be nurtured, practised," She paused.

Pale, opalescent orbs, unseeing though they were, pinned Bonnie and seemed to see right into her. The girl squirmed under such intense scrutiny from the witch with unusual eyes.

"Why do you fear it?"

"What makes you think I'm afraid?"

"I'm a seer, my dear. You're a brave girl. But you're a lot more scared than you let on. I can sense it in you." Idris reached out and took Bonnie's hand. She frowned.

"You seem tired. You're not sleeping much."

"I have bad dreams," She admitted.

"I know for myself how troubling that can be," she released her hand. "Something happened to you, didn't it? Before all this. It's made you doubt yourself. Made you question who you are."

Bonnie looked away uncomfortably, her mind assaulted with images...  
Damon chained up, his skin so pallid and yellow it looked like it was about to peel off. The electricity of possibilities flowing from her magic, crackling in the air. Hearts exploding in their chests, limbs twisted. Three bodies.

She swallowed over the bile threatening to rise in her throat. Forcing the images away, her gaze dropped and alighted on something else that caught her attention.

"That's a beautiful necklace," Bonnie said instead, desperate to talk about anything else.

Idris's hand instinctively reached up to touch the jewelled pendant. Hanging on a gossamer fine silver chain, three identical, interlocking spirals stemmed from a shared centre. Set inside the centre was a single emerald.

"It is the symbol for the triskelion," Idris explained. She didn't say anything about Bonnie's obvious deflection. "The emerald represents feminine spirituality and the Goddess Qetsiyah. And those spirals symbolise the ongoing cycle of birth, life and death; mother, maiden and goddess. It was a gift. From your mother."

Viridian eyes widened and Bonnie couldn't seem to catch her breath. It wouldn't go all the way down.

"You knew Abby?"

"When Klaus brought her and Elijah to the brotherhood for protection, he asked me to stay with them," the witch began to prepare some herbs, making a paste. Despite her blindness, her actions were confident and efficient.

"We had no idea what to expect from a vampire-witch pregnancy. Something like this has never happened before or since," her speech was accompanied by the gentle grinding of the mortar and pestle. The scent of Eucalyptus and fennel filled the air.

"Your uncle wanted to have a witch at hand, in case there were any complications. But you were perfect," she smiled. "I remember placing you in Abby's arms."

"What was she like?"

"Abigail? Oh she was a right pain in the neck."

Bonnie couldn't help the giggle that escaped at the other witch's candour. Idris wiped her hands on her apron, while the mortar and pestle continued grinding on its own.

"Incredibly bossy. She certainly knew how to put your father in his place. With everything except his car," Idris gave a wry smile. "She always left the gas just above empty. They fought about it constantly. He didn't understand why it was so impossible for her – she could never remember to fill the tank." Bonnie smiled.

"And she was a terrible cook! I mean, really, Abby burned corn flakes; that's how bad it was. Scotty refused to let her go anywhere near the kitchen after the meatloaf incident," her pearlescent eyes shone with mirth. "But she sure could sing though. His nightingale, that's what your father called her," She spoke with quiet reverence. "Elijah loved her rotten, you know. And they loved you."

"I wish I could have known them."

"I think they would be very proud of you, Bonnie. To see the young woman you're growing into."

At this declaration, something in the girl's expression darkened.

"I don't know about that," She murmured, twisting her fingers.

"Oh, my sweet girl," the witch covered Bonnie's hands with her own, stilling their nervous action. "You wield a power you cannot yet conceive of. And it frightens you. That is why you fail to understand yourself."

"What do I do?" Her malachite eyes were anxious, searching. Idris reached up and removed her necklace.

"Here," she offered the pendant to Bonnie.

"I can't," the girl protested, trying to make her take it back, "My mother gave it to you. She was your friend."

"Then accept it as a sign of _our_ friendship."

Bonnie could make no further argument. She accepted the necklace; fixing the delicate clasp around her neck with careful fingers.

"Let it be a reminder of what your heart knows to be true, Bonnie," Idris spoke confidently. "In time, you will learn to trust in what you are."

* * *

**There was a time when Bonnie would** have thought twice before lying.

Now she was amazed at how easily the half-truths tripped off her tongue. Before they returned to Mystic Falls, Klaus had impressed upon her the need for secrecy.

"_No-one else can know about you, love. Not even Miss Forbes or Miss Gilbert."_

She had argued at first. They were her friends, she could trust them.

"_All the more reason to keep them out of harm's way,"_ Klaus had countered. _"If you tell them your secret, it will become their secret too. Do you really want to give them that responsibility?"_

He had a point.  
If Bonnie was honest, she couldn't see much good coming from Caroline and Elena knowing about her parents. They were human and there were limitations to how far their involvement could go in the supernatural world. More likely, knowing about her would only put them in danger. And her too.

_"We have to be careful, Bonnie. People will go to extraordinary lengths to take advantage of someone with your unique abilities."_

So Bonnie accepted that, for the foreseeable future, she would have to live a kind of double life. Her first task, explain what had happened to she and Tyler without revealing the true cause for her involvement.

Caroline had been so relieved, so happy to have her boyfriend back, that she hadn't been too bothered about any gaps in Bonnie's explanation. Matt, Stefan and Elena, however, were not so easy to placate. She had fielded their questions as best she could, and when she needed the out, Damon had stepped in with an appropriately curt and cutting remark to get them to shut up, and back off. Bonnie had never thought she'd ever be grateful for his asshattery. But it did make a very convenient distraction.

She had called the raven-haired vampire ahead of time, letting him know that she was heading home with Klaus and Tyler, and filling him in on what she had learned. Of course he had bitched and moaned for several minutes first: _we had a deal, we're supposed to be partners; your grandmother used me for some witchy ritual that was like tripping on LSD._

Recovering from her shock that he actually survived an encounter with her Grams, she had glibly replied.

"_Well, I'm sorry my abduction was so inconvenient for you, Damon. Next time, I'll be more considerate and remind the kidnappers to haul your ass away too."_

"_You're thinking about my ass, huh."_

Bonnie wanted to reach through the phone and smack that smirk, she knew he was wearing, clean off. They finally stopped quibbling long enough to come up with a decent cover story about Tyler's reappearance; something that the Lockwoods and Sheriff Forbes would buy.

Tyler had been admitted to Mystic General, greeted by his tearful but relieved parents and Caroline, who refused to leave his side. Bonnie then spent the next hour at the Gilbert house, telling the rest of the gang about Esther and the moonstone. She left the Lockwoods out of it since it wasn't her family secret to tell.

When she started to sway on her feet, Matt had suggested they call it a day and Damon had surprised everyone by volunteering to drive her home. They were parked outside her house now and Bonnie was stalling.

"On a scale of one to ten, how mad do you think she's going to be?"

Damon shrugged. "I survived. And you know how Sheila feels about me. She _likes_ you."

She nodded slightly and released the handle on the passenger's door to climb out. But she turned back at the last minute.

"Thank you, Damon," at his raised eyebrows she continued, "You're a bastard. But you're the right bastard, at the right time."

"Wow, Judgey. That was almost a compliment," he smirked. "Guess that means you like me."

"Don't get cute, Salvatore," she flipped him off playfully.

Not about to let her have the last word, Damon shot back, "You think I'm cute? Sounds like _someone's_ getting a crush. OWW!" She zapped him with her magic.

Bonnie shook her head as she heard him pull away from the curb, grumbling about trigger happy witches. Entering the house, she dropped her keys on the table and gingerly called out.

"Grams? Are you here?"

"In the kitchen."

Sheila was standing over the stove, preparing dinner. At Bonnie's approach, she turned around; her face an unreadable mask. Her granddaughter hesitated.

"I'm sorry, Grams," she held her breath.

Her grandmother didn't say a word, her stern gaze searching Bonnie's face. Then she pulled the girl into a tight embrace.

"I thought you'd be angry with me," she said, when Sheila pulled back.

"I was. Right up till the moment you walked in. Then I was just grateful that you're back, safe and sound." Bonnie gnawed on her lower lip.

"Klaus told me things. About the Bennetts and Esther Mikaelson."

Sheila sighed heavily and shook her head.

"He should not have involved you."

At her grandmother's denial, Bonnie felt a familiar flash of annoyance. She thought they were past this.

"I am involved," she bit out, trying to control her temper. "This is my family, Grams. My life. I know you think you're protecting me, but you don't know what it's like."

"Baby, I'm only trying to do what's best for you," Sheila tried to soothe her, "I understand how you must feel-"

"No. You don't understand anything," Bonnie snapped.

"How could you? Until a few weeks ago, you wouldn't even acknowledge what I am," She pinned Sheila ruthlessly with eyes like liquid fire. "Do you know what it feels like to be afraid of who you are? To think that you're a monster?"

Sheila's mouth fell open in shock and she felt like a heavy blow had slammed into her.

"Don't ever say that again! Don't even think it!" Sheila seized her by the shoulders, practically shaking her. Her grip was so tight Bonnie thought she might leave bruises.

"Being different is nothing to be afraid of. Don't you realise how special you are?" When her granddaughter still looked doubtful, Sheila mentally cursed and chastised herself.

The two Bennett women descended into silence. Finally, Sheila was brave enough to meet her granddaughter's gaze. But that tension-filled bubble which was lodged in her chest only grew. Jade eyes were filled with confusion, hurt and fear.

"Listen to me, Bonnie. I am afraid but not for the reasons you think," the older Bennett witch released a shaky breath. "For too long, the women in this family have sacrificed themselves over and over, and over again. Your mother was ripped from us before her time. And I don't want the same thing to happen to you."

"Grams..."

"When you were born, I was certain of two things. First, I would do everything in my power to look after you. But I also knew that one day, something or someone would come for you. And sure enough, someone did."

Bonnie's eyes narrowed. "Are you talking about that warlock, Tristan?"

"He's no ordinary warlock, Bonnie. Tristan du Bois is a Catha - a warrior priest sworn to protect and serve the high priestesses."

"Like Esther was," her head reeled trying to sort through the jumble of thoughts in her head. "Klaus told me that Mikael wants to resurrect her. If that's why Tristan is here, then what does he want with me?" Bonnie didn't miss the fact her grandmother seemed to be hesitating about something.

"What is it, Grams?"

Sheila ran a hand through her unruly curls, warring with herself.

"I lied to you, Bonnie," she admitted. "About why I had to go to Philadelphia. Aunt Inez wasn't sick. She and I were following a lead. On Tristan. The man came after my granddaughter. I wasn't about to just let that slide," she squared her shoulders and a familiar spark flared in her grandmother's eyes.

Bonnie jumped at the sudden flash of lightning and thunder rolled; a deep roar that seemed to rise like a battle cry from the very depths of the earth. She stared at her grandmother with something like awe.

"You've been trying to do what you think is right."

"So have you," she took Bonnie's hand. "But I don't want us to hide things from each other anymore. I've been so anxious to do what's best for you, that I forgot to do what actually _is _best for you. And I made you feel like you had to turn elsewhere. I didn't expect it to be Damon Salvatore."

Neither did I, Bonnie thought wryly.

"Be careful with him," Sheila urged; her expression grave. "I'm hardly his biggest fan, but one thing I can say for Klaus, you know he'll always be on your side. With Mr. Salvatore...I'm not so sure he won't cut and run, if he decides it's no longer worthwhile. "

A strange sense of irritation sliced through Bonnie, prickling beneath her skin.  
Her grandmother's warning was more than justified, given Damon's less than perfect track record. But for some inexplicable reason, it rankled to hear someone speak against him. She wondered, when exactly did she decide to extend her loyalty to Damon Salvatore?

"Bonnie? Are you listening to me?" Grams' voice snapped her from her musings. "I was telling you about Vastra."

"The witch that attacked me and Matt?"

"Yes. _Marina_ Vastra. She turned up on a slab in the morgue in Philly," Bonnie gasped. "Pretty nasty job, too. It looks like Tristan killed her a few days after she failed to capture you."

"But Aunt Inez could still talk to her," she knew Grams' friend was a necromancer. Sheila huffed.

"It took some doing," she waved Bonnie off when she went to ask a question, "Let's just say Tristan had put certain measures in place. And even then, she wasn't as talkative as we'd hoped. The warlock did a real number on her."

"Why didn't you want me to know about this?"

Sheila paused; a small, sad smile on her face. She tucked a stray lock of hair behind Bonnie's ear.

"Baby, if I've kept you close. It's because I want to keep you longer," she looked sheepish. "I've acted like a foolish, old woman."

"No, never that," Bonnie entwined their fingers. "But you can't protect me from everything. You can't protect me from myself."

Grams lips pursed. In the last five minutes, Bonnie suddenly seemed so grown up. Maybe Inez had been right. She needed to have a little more faith. Because her granddaughter was strong enough.

"Vastra told us that Tristan was exiled from the Order of the Bloodguard," She cleared her throat. "He broke his spiritual oath and betrayed the mistress he had sworn to serve. So she cursed him, never to rest. His curse can only be lifted by a high priestess."

"So he has as much to gain from Esther's resurrection, as Mikael," Bonnie realised, "and we're an obstacle to that."

"There's something else," she waited for Grams to continue. "Vastra spoke of a legend: two half blood witches, one for darkness to the other's light; one for hatred, one for love. Given what Klaus told you, I think Tristan believes this legend refers to you and Esther. You are, after all, half blood. She's Elijah's mother. And your grandmother."

"But you don't believe that," a heavy weight in Bonnie's chest began to spiral up into a throbbing of dread. "_Grams._ It's just a story...Isn't it?"

"True or not, real or imagined, it's what Tristan believes. And I learned, long ago, to be wary of dismissing other people's beliefs."

"If Tristan is right," Sheila continued, "and Mikael raises Esther, you will be all that stands in her way."

Bonnie shook her head. It was too much. The ramifications of her grandmother's words, what they meant, she wasn't ready. Almost idly, her hand reached up to trace the triskelion pendant. She took a deep breath.

"What do we do now?"

"What we've always done," Grams squeezed her hand. "We look after each other. We weather the storm. And we don't give in."

* * *

**Art McCullough had one failing.**

He loved gossip. For a man in his line of work, keeping his ear to the ground was often all he had to go on. Which was all well and good, except when a glass of vintage malt was added to the mix. His love of good liquor had an unfortunate side effect of loosening his tongue.

Sober, the man would take any secret to his grave. But give him a bottle of whiskey and the slightest hint you were interested in his exploits...Art was never anything less than flush. So when it started making the rounds that a rare, powerful medallion had gone on the market, it didn't take long for a certain raven-haired vampire to trace the gossip back to Art.

A few days later, the smuggler was travelling coach, in the trunk of Damon's car, on a one way ticket to Mystic Falls.

"Vigil," the vampire eyed him coldly.

"A period of watchful attention, usually before a holy day or religious festival," Art recited drolly. Damon back-handed him. The smuggler swore loudly as he tasted copper from his split lip.

"I'm tired of the dance, Art," he sounded bored. "How much do you want?"

"Enough to take a permanent vacation somewhere exotic. Brazil sounds nice...the beach, the broads, the booze."

"I'll see what I can do," Damon lied. The other man glared.

"I thought the dancing had stopped."

"The alternative to it is I break your fingers one by one," the vampire smirked. Art stopped twisting against his restraints.

"Threats don't work on a man with nothing to lose."

Klaus, who had been following the exchange silently up till now, stepped forward.

"Your situation is more precarious than you think, Mr. McCullough. So stop pushing buttons and tell us where the talisman is."

"You'll only kill me, once I talk."

Klaus's eyes turned amber and his lips curved in a sinister smile.

"I'm going to kill you whether you tell us or not," He said pleasantly. "But I'm offering you a chance to decide on the manner of your demise," the werewolf crouched down so he was eye level with the man in the chair. "I'm good at killing. And I've learned how to do it quickly, painlessly," he released Art's restraints. "But if you don't talk, I'm going to forget all of that. And make the last moments of your life last forever."

Art blanched; his beady black eyes wide with fear. Damon lifted his eyebrows, impressed. He didn't like Bonnie's werewolf douche of an uncle, but he had to admit, he appreciated Klaus's style.

"I sold it," the smuggler said quickly, all trace of his earlier bravado gone.

"To whom?"

"Katherine Pierce." Damon inwardly groaned. She would have procured the talisman for Mikael. Would that bitch ever cease to be a thorn in his side?

"Thank you, Mr. McCullough," the werewolf's voice was hard, cold, "Honesty really is the best policy."

"P-p-please..."

"Don't beg," Klaus loomed over the cowering man, "It's pathetic."

"Klaus wait—" Bonnie reached for his arm, attempting to pull him back. But it was too late. With a swift movement, he snapped the smuggler's neck.

"Oh God." All the air seemed to go out of her body and she looked on in horror. The man's limp body seemed glued for a moment, then slowly slid downward. Damon moved quickly to wrap up the corpse.

"Bonnie," Klaus turned his head towards her slightly, "if I had let him live, he would have gone straight to Mikael. If you don't want me to get involved, don't give me cause to."

It was a clear warning. She and Damon had screwed up when they lost the medallion to Art. A stupid, careless mistake that had cost them what they now knew to be the talisman used for Esther's binding ritual. She couldn't make a mistake like that again. No matter how kind or caring Klaus was to her, he was still a man who held no qualms with killing. He would do what he thought necessary and he was not above harming people to get his point across.

The door to the basement creaked open, interrupting the charged silence.

"Tyler's here," Stefan called down.

"We'll be right up," Damon told his brother.

Releasing a shaky breath, Bonnie managed to tear her gaze away from the man's corpse and the unlikely trio headed upstairs.

Tyler and Caroline were waiting in the living room. Damon rolled his eyes. This party was starting to get a little too crowded.

"Is everything ok?" the cheery blonde glanced at her friend, noticing Bonnie seemed a little distracted. The young witch opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. Stefan, who was standing closest to Bonnie, placed a supportive hand on her back.

"We've recovered the location of Mason's medallion," Klaus said. No need to mention how they'd gotten this information, or the corpse in the basement to show for it. "Unfortunately, Mikael has it."

"And there's no way to get it back?" Tyler wondered.

"Not unless we want a direct confrontation with the Mikaelsons. And that would be ill advised at this point."

"We're not outta moves yet," Damon swaggered forward. His eyes narrowed when he noticed his little brother still had an arm around Bonnie. She seemed unaware, her thoughts a million miles away. "The talisman is useless without the moonstone, right? So let's find the stone and get ahead of this thing," He turned to Tyler. "I'm assuming you have something on Mason's message?"

The younger boy nodded.

"We found Joseph Bell, well, sort of."

"What exactly does that mean?" Klaus frowned. "Either you found him or you didn't."

"We did," Caroline spoke up. "Only Joseph Bell is not a person. It's a book. Well, an author."

Damon shook his head. "Barbie, you've never made _less_ sense. And that's some achievement."

"Oh bite me, Damon!"

The vampire bared his teeth. "I already did."

"If you're quite finished children," Klaus intervened. "I believe what Miss Forbes is trying to say, however inarticulately," Damon snorted rudely. "Is that the code in Mason's message is based on a book by the _author_, Joseph Bell."

"Exactly! The date on the postcard, 2010-03-27," Tyler explained, "it's actually a reference to specific page numbers: 20, 100, 32 and 7. Only problem is, we don't know which book the pages are from. We've been going through Dad's library, even some stuff from the Historical Society, but there are no titles by Joseph Bell."

"Wait a minute," Bonnie said suddenly, snapping back from wherever her mind had taken a vacation to.

"I've seen that name before," she hurried over to her bag, frantically searching for her little black notebook. "I thought the name sounded familiar. But it didn't click until Caroline mentioned he was an author. A local author, if memory serves, who writes about local history," she rambled. Her fingers closed around the A5 notebook in triumph.

In her haste to find the correct page, Bonnie accidentally tore the note paper. "Oh damn it!" The two halves fluttered down to the floor.

"Bonnie-"

"-Its fine! I've got it," she scrambled to gather up the loose sheet.

Damon frowned. The little vamp-witch was a bundle of nervous energy. In a flash, he was by her side.

"Give us a minute," he told the others, leading Bonnie by the elbow into the kitchen.

"Damon, we don't have time for this. The book-"

"Slow your roll, Judgey," he cut her off. "You're twitching like a hooked fish and going off half-cocked is not gonna solve the problem. What?" Damon paused, noting her bemused expression.

"Nothing. It's just...that's usually my line."

"And I took it," he shrugged. "What's going on with you, witchy? And don't say nothing. I can hear your heart racing and you're doing that nervous twisting thing with your fingers," he stared pointedly at the traitorous digits. Bonnie quickly stuck her hands in her jean pockets.

He stalked closer to her. Damon was taller than her, but not so much that he overwhelmed her. This close, she could see that his eyes weren't just blue. Threads of silver were mixed in with the dominant colour of the iris. He peered at her as if trying to work out a puzzle.

"Is this about what happened in the basement?"

Bonnie ran a hand through her hair. "I'm sorry," she shrugged, "it's just...it's all got very..._real_," she admitted.

The little vamp-witch took a breath. Klaus's confrontation with Art had been a wake-up call. A reminder of the stakes and the very real danger they faced. "I'll be fine," she exhaled slowly.

"You better. Cause I need you with your head screwed on right," Damon said bluntly. "Otherwise, I may as well be talking to...Caroline."

Bonnie rolled her eyes."Nice pep talk."

"Sorry," he smirked, "If you want sweet and sappy, talk to Stefan."

Feeling calmer, Bonnie led the way back to the living room where the others were waiting.

"I looked for the book at the library," she started to explain, "when I was trying to find a link between the Lockwoods and the Mikaelsons. Only it had gone missing. Right around the time Mason was in town for the Historical Society Benefit."

"Huh," Tyler shared a look with Caroline. "Either that's quaintly coincidental, or..."

"I'd be willing to bet that your uncle, was the last person to borrow _The Blood Countess: Murders at Mystic Hill Manor_. I'll give you _one_ guess who the author is."

They never got the chance.

A loud bang shook the boarding house to its very foundations and the heavy oak door went soaring off its hinges. Tyler yanked Caroline out of harm's way as the wood splintered around them with a crack! Bonnie felt a warm droplet on her cheek where a stray piece had nicked her skin.

Damon was the first one on his feet.

"Show yourself, asshole!" He growled.

Beside him, Klaus and Stefan stood tensed and ready for a fight. Bonnie gulped audibly at the sudden wave of magic she felt rush towards her. It was thick and heady, and she felt it that much stronger when the familiar figure stepped through the open doorway. Twinkling grey eyes met glowing malachite and her spine straightened, drawing up to her full height.

"Tristan."

**TBC**

* * *

**AN 2: **So Tristan's back! Remember, he gave Bonnie a week. But now that week is up...

I'm sorry for the lack of Bonnie/Damon moments in my recent updates. Bamon will be back in full force in the coming chapters. Promise.

Thank you for reading!


	15. Mousetrap

**Author's note: **Reviewers, readers, followers and favouriters - I continue to be in awe of your generosity and kindness to this story. You guys are wonderful!

This update is shorter than usual. I'm swamped with deadlines for the next 3 weeks. So in order to be able to update with some regularity (I didn't want to keep you waiting for a month), I've opted to split what was supposed to be _2 lengthy_ chapters, into _4 to 5 shorter_ chapters.

This particular chapter was, for me, an exercise in creating suspense by playing with structure. Not sure how I did, but see what you think.

Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

**13**

**MOUSETRAP**

Still squatting, she swivelled in the cramped underground space. Her knees protested the movement as hours of crouching in the cold and damp were starting to take its toll. Too tired to cry anymore, she picked idly at the chipped polish of her nails. Her French manicure had been ruined when she tried to claw at the walls, looking for a way out.

_Smile, though your heart is aching...  
Smile, even though it's breaking..._

As the tune played inside her head, the single paraffin lamp that hung overhead began to sway and the earth shook. Her eyes flew up as gunfire exploded just a few feet above her. Bits of rock and dirt came loose.

"Hello!" The word emerged as a harsh cry, as though she had swallowed sand. She rose up on her knees and tried again as the ruckus continued. "_Somebody!_ HELP ME! HELLOOOO!"

**Damon tried to arrange himself in a comfortable position but it was impossible.**

The hard plastic chairs of the waiting room were clearly intended as some sort of torture device for waiting suspects and arrested perpetrators alike. In the interview room across the way, Sheriff Forbes was busy dealing with some local farmer's complaint. Fingers tapping nervously against his thigh, he half-listened to her conversation.

"The owner discovered this?" she flapped a hand at the photograph in front of her.

"No. The plumber. He spotted a trapdoor when he was fixing the pipes."

The rest of the exchange was only mildly interesting and he found his thoughts returning to what transpired at the boarding house, a little over two hours ago.

_With a flick of his wrist, Tristan sent the two vampires flying against the wall. No matter how much he struggled, Damon could not break free from the warlock's grip. Stefan was not faring much better pinned down by the same invisible force. Klaus, however, had managed to avoid Tristan's hex and taken a protective stance beside Bonnie. The little witch had not taken her eyes off the interloper, assessing the threat._

"_You possess some knowledge of magic?" this comment was directed to the werewolf._

_"A rudimentary understanding," Klaus responded as though they were discussing the rules of football, "but it's been useful on occasion."_

_Tristan gave an almost imperceptible nod. "You really do live up to your reputation, how rare that is these days." He turned his attention to Bonnie._

"_Our meeting is long overdue, Miss Bennett. We had an agreement."_

"_I didn't agree to anything," the shadows darkened in her face. "You threatened me, I refused."_

"_Don't be coy, Bonnie. You're too clever to think I'm threatening you. I'm offering you a simple choice: help your good friend, Matt. Or don't."_

_Caroline gasped as the warlock paused to let his words sink in. Bonnie's eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat._

_She took a step towards him, hands clenched so tightly her knuckles had turned white. Klaus put a hand on her shoulder in silent support - and to stop her doing something stupid. "What have you done to Matt?" _

"_Not a thing. Mr. Donovan is perfectly fine. Curious though," his brow furrowed in mock concern, "he seems to be having a hard time reaching his mother. Kelly Donovan didn't show up for work this morning. And no-one seems to have seen her since she had drinks with a friend last night. He's most discombobulated."_

_Efencume ætgædre ende hie æra._

_Tristan extended his hand palm up to reveal a single blue flame. As the flame burned out a map appeared scorched into the wooden floor._

"_What the actual fu-!" Damon cried in protest. The warlock paid him no mind. He seemed to glow in the light from the flame; his magic so potent it was practically a physical thing._

"_Tomorrow, at noon, you alone will meet me at __**that**__ location," his instruction was firm. "Together, we will travel to a second location. Once we are there, I will give you the necessary information to recover Ms. Donovan."_

"_Why are you doing this?" her voice was broken glass. It was the first time Bonnie betrayed any vulnerability. "These people have done nothing to you."_

_Tristan's face was tense. "I warned you that if you continued to ignore me, others would suffer. When I gave you the chance to come to me voluntarily, you refused. You forced my hand," his eyebrows lifted with menace. "I am going to get through to you, Miss Bennett. And if this is the only way, so be it."_

_He was gone in a puff of smoke._

"Alright," Liz Forbes accompanied the man out, "I'll send a patrol up there to take a look. See if anything sets our antennae off. Thanks for coming in."

The sheriff exchanged a few more words with the complainant before she spotted Damon.

"What can I do for you?" She ushered him into her office. "I take it this isn't a social visit."

"It's about Kelly Donovan's disappearance."

The sheriff's brows plunged into a V. "You heard about that, huh."

"Stefan goes to school with Matt Donovan," Damon twitched his head. It wasn't a lie. His brother _did_ go to school with the Donovan boy.

"He came down to the station earlier. Wanted to file a missing persons report," Liz released a long sigh. "I told him we'd have to wait another 24 hours."

"Why the delay?"

The V of her eyebrows narrowed. "I feel for Matt. The kid's had way more than an eighteen year old should have to deal with. But Kelly...she's not exactly known for her reliability," Liz shrugged. "It's not unheard of for her to just take off for a couple days. She's pulled this kinda thing before."

"This time is different. I think Matt might be right," his fingers picked up their restless tapping again.

"You know something I don't Damon?"

The vampire's lips tucked in but he said nothing, silently running over the ramifications of what he was about to do. There was a certain amount of calculated risk to this plan and he'd be dealing with one pissed off little vamp-witch. But the ends justified the means.

"You remember that incident in Dublin a couple weeks back? When we thought Ward's daughter had been kidnapped by some vampire," he said finally.

"Yeah, but the whole thing was a snipe hunt. Some wack job getting us to chase our own tail."

"Maybe not," Damon pretended to consider the matter. "I have reason to believe that the man, who sent us on that snipe hunt, is responsible for Kelly Donovan's disappearance."

Liz tilted her head at him. "What makes you say that?"

"A reliable source. You asked me to join the council because I had access to certain resources and channels of information," he argued, "this is what they brought me. The good news is...we may have an opportunity to take him down."

Her eyebrows lifted curiously. "Go on."

"Our guy is setting up a meet."

"With who? What for?"

"Don't know," he lied. "The point is, we know he's going to be at the east ridge of Mystic Woods. At noon tomorrow."

"The east ridge?" Sheriff Forbes frowned. "That's the site of the old colonial ruins. Pretty isolated. Not too many ways in or out of that glade."

Damon nodded. "You wanted this guy, Liz. Now's your chance, your one chance. Take it. _Right now_," he leaned forward and the room grew cold. "Or let him go."

**A car door slammed. The sound sent a flock of swallows skittering through the trees.**

Bonnie carefully picked her way through the overgrown path to the ruins of the old colonial mansion. Growing up in Mystic Falls, she had heard all sorts of tales about the old house. But she knew it as the execution site of her ancestor, Emily. Appropriate then, that Tristan would pick this as a meeting point.

The warlock in question was already there. He was seated, Indian style, and appeared to be meditating.

"I am pleased you came," he spoke when she was about a foot behind him.

"Did I have a choice?"

Tristan gained his feet and turned to face her. His eyes darted over her analytically, taking in her sharp gaze and defensive posture.

"Despite what you may think, Miss Bennett, I wish you no harm."

"That's funny," she scoffed. " 'Cause I can think of at least two occasions when you've caused nothing but _harm_."

"It's true. I deliberately set those warlocks in Dublin after you," he spoke without remorse. "In order to allow you into my confidence, I needed to get a sense of you. Of your magic."

"Those men died," She shot him a lethal gaze, pausing to see if he would defend himself.

He simply said, "We needed to be sure that you were who you claimed to be. It was a necessary test and a sacrifice they made willingly."

"What about Vastra?" she struggled to collect her thoughts.

His expression clouded at the mention of the witch. "That, I'll admit, was a miscalculation on my part. But the episode did tell me a lot more about her than you."

"I don't know what that means," Bonnie shook her head. "But I know what you are. I know what you've done," her voice was a challenge. "Vastra is not the first witch you've betrayed. And knowing that, you still expect me to trust you?"

Tristan's face was bland and shuttered. "All of what you say is true," he sniffed. "The '_what'. _Not the _'why'_."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

He started to say something. His mouth was open, and the words were coming out. But he never got his response voiced.

His eyes darted over her shoulder, and, before Bonnie knew what was happening, Tristan had slammed into her from the side, pushing her down to the ground in a move that scratched up her palms and knees. Shocked and winded, she started to ask what was going on, but he interrupted by hissing, "Quiet."

Recognizing real urgency in his voice, Bonnie shut up and instead used her extended vision. Her eyes flashed gold, silvered veins rippling around her temples as she scanned the surrounding area. She gasped. Sheriff Forbes was leading a large group of officers through the woods towards them.

"How many?" Tristan murmured next to her.

"Fifteen men," Bonnie tried to extend her range further. "Five east, five are hanging back south of us, and the final five are a few feet awa—" she broke off suddenly, spotting Damon trailing behind the last squad.

A curious thing happened then. As if sensing her gaze on him, the vampire's head twitched in her direction. He seemed to be staring straight at Bonnie.

"They cannot find you here," Tristan hauled her to her feet, grabbed her arm bruisingly, and started racing deeper into the woods. Bonnie ran too. Not that she had much choice. She could never have freed herself from the warlock's powerful grip.

_"Stop!"_ one of the officers called out.

Gunshots fired and Tristan yanked them behind the safety of a tall pine tree.

_"You can't escape,"_ that was Sheriff Forbes. _"We have the area surrounded."_

Tristan paid no attention to the armed men mobilizing against him. His gaze was fixed on Bonnie.

"You've accused me of being a liar, a traitor and a murderer," they could hear the sheriff calling out more orders as the officers moved into position, "and there is some truth to each claim. But if you really believe me to be your enemy, tell me to walk out there and surrender. I'll do it."

_"This is your last warning!"_ the officer called again.

Bonnie experienced a moment of extraordinary stillness. She was motionless. Her fists were clenched. She seemed to have even stopped breathing. Tristan peered at her curiously.

"You're not certain you do believe that, are you?"

_"Alright. Let's move in,"_ Thunder crackled in the hills. The storm was drawing closer.

Tristan sniffed and didn't look impressed. "I'll tackle them. Do you still have the ring I gave you?"

Bonnie nodded, vaguely recalling the thin silver band with a topaz stone. Tristan in the mean time, continued rattling off instructions.

"Take the old turnpike road and follow the path to the fords," he explained. "The ring will guide you. Use it to summon Morrigan."

"Wait, what?"

"You'll understand when the time comes. Now this is important, you must only attempt to cross the creek at sunset, Bonnie. Not a moment sooner. Or after."

They could hear the officers moving restlessly through the undergrowth.

"That's my cue. I will leave you now," the warlock stepped out from their hiding spot. "There's a system of tunnels beneath the town—"

"-Built during the war, I know." The warlock looked momentarily put out by her interruption.

"Then you know how to find Kelly Donovan," he said finally, the implication clear in his tone.

Tristan left her then; staring after him, wide eyed and disoriented. Bonnie wasn't sure how long she was on her own. It could have been thirty seconds, it could have been thirty minutes. But when things happened, they happened very quickly.

_Smile, though your heart is aching...  
Smile, even though it's breaking..._

As the tune played inside her head, the single paraffin lamp that hung overhead began to sway and the earth shook. Her eyes flew up as gunfire exploded just a few feet above her. Bits of rock and dirt came loose.

"Hello!" The word emerged as a harsh cry, as though she had swallowed sand. Kelly Donovan rose up on her knees and tried again as the ruckus continued. "_Somebody!_ HELP ME! HELLOOOO!"

The sound of gunfire seemed deafening and there was some sort of explosion that made a strange flash. Was it Bonnie's imagination or was there steam rising up all around her?

It didn't matter. There was nothing she could do. Not without exposing herself to Sheriff Forbes, the head of the town council. Half-closing her eyes, she could hear the whoop of a siren in the distance. The air smelled of fire and ash. Close by, a twig snapped and she was suddenly aware of a figure looming over her.

Emerald clashed with azure as a familiar vampire emerged from the trees. Damon froze, briefly stunned at the sight of her before his shoulders sagged with visible relief.

"I could hug you right now," he flashed over to her. The little witch didn't respond, her gaze fixed on the blood on Damon's shirt.

She wasn't naive enough to think Tristan wasn't launching an aggressive counter-attack. The man had thought nothing of killing a witch in his service. But seeing Damon's bloody shirt really opened her eyes.

"It's not my blood," he said, realizing what had drawn her attention. "Tristan created some kind of explosion. One of the officers..." he shook his head. "He's in bad shape, but he's alive."

Bonnie felt a painful lump in her throat. Swallowed over it hard. Damon was watching her with growing alarm. Her continued silence became more and more unsettling.

"Bonnie, are you okay?" the touch of his hand on her shoulder sparked a memory. She'd seen Damon with the five officers. Damon. He'd known about Tristan's threat. About the planned meeting.

Fury swept over her like a tidal wave, and she shoved him away from her. Not that it did much good. In a flash he was back in front of her, an annoyed, tense expression on his handsome features.

"Damn it, Bonnie," he exclaimed. "I'm trying to help you."

She was shaking. A part of her knew that he had only been trying to help. He perceived Tristan as a threat, the same as she, and he'd acted in an attempt to fix the situation. But another part of her really felt like screaming a little. Too many times when Damon made a decision, other people suffered for it. Other people. Matt's mother!

"Kelly Donovan's being held in one of the subterranean tunnels," she told him coldly, not even looking at him. "Find her."

She turned to walk away from him then. Damon, initially caught off guard by her non-sequitur took a moment to catch up.

"Where are you going? This place is crawling with police," he reached for her arm to stop her, but she jerked from his grasp.

"I'm fine," she said harshly. "I don't need you hovering and getting in the way. I know what I'm doing."

Swearing at her under his breath, Damon glared and dug his heels in.

"You've got a fucking screw loose if you think I'm just gonna let you wander off."

"Oh? And what are you gonna do to stop me? Tell on me to your council buddies again?" Bonnie queried bitterly.

Damon flinched as though he'd been struck. It had been wishful thinking, but he'd really hoped to have a little longer before she figured it out.

"Bonnie..." he tried to explain. She shook her head.

"We don't have time for this. Just go, Damon. Find Sheriff Forbes, tell her about the tunnels."

On cue, his cell phone started ringing. Damon checked the caller id: _**LIZ**_. When he looked up, Bonnie was gone.

**TBC  
**

* * *

**AN 2: **So Damon's kind of in the dog house. Bonnie's been thrown for a loop. And what about Tristan? Is he sincere? Time will tell...

Thank you for reading!


	16. Intentions

**Author's note: **Honestly, I have to thank each and every one of you. I have the most amazing and dedicated readers in the world! It's you guys that help me to write this story, keep me motivated, and inspired to do better. I hope you enjoy this latest instalment in the adventures of our favourite heroine.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

**14**

**INTENTIONS**

_"Hi! You've reached Bonnie. Leave a message after the beep."_

His hand clenched around the mobile device and Klaus practically growled. That was the fifth time his call went straight to voicemail. He hadn't heard a word from Bonnie since the local law enforcement had ambushed her meeting with Tristan. Sheila was on her way back, having heard the news, but Whitmore was at least an hour's drive away and the werewolf wasn't in a patient mood.

Klaus had not been happy with Bonnie's decision to meet the Catha warlock, but he tried to respect her wishes. Matt was like a brother to her and he understood the bonds of family better than most. But that was before she'd been caught in the crossfire between Tristan and the magic police, he thought snidely. His eyes turned amber at the idea that Bonnie might be hurt and he was seconds away from turning violent.

When all was said and done, he didn't give a damn about this town. He was here for Bonnie, and had no more sympathy for the citizens of Mystic Falls than most people would feel in taking a paper to a wasp.

Fortunately, for the town's inhabitants, his thoughts of murder and destruction were interrupted when his phone chose that moment to ring. Klaus frowned at the unfamiliar number.

"Who is this?"

"_Klaus?"_

The vice that had been tightening around his chest instantly relaxed.

"Bonnie. Where are you? Tristan left a bloody crater in the woods and you didn't call," he sounded angry, cold even. But the girl on the other end of the phone knew better.

"_I'm sorry, Klaus. I must have lost my phone somewhere in the woods, when we were trying to get away. But I'm alright,"_ her voice wavered a little and she had to take a breath._ "I'm with Matt. Tristan was holding Kelly Donovan in the tunnels beneath the town. The police are searching for her now."_

With his free hand he ran it through his hair and released a harsh, frustrated sound. "What was Sheriff Forbes doing there in the first place? How did they find out about Tristan?"

There was a pause and Bonnie didn't answer right away.

_"I don't know,"_ he could hear her swallow. _"Maybe the council already had eyes on Tristan."_

It was a bad lie and they both knew it. The werewolf's expression hardened.

"I'm glad you're safe, Bonnie. If...if anything ever happened to you, I'm not sure I could forgive myself."

_"I'm okay,"_ she told him again, her voice more confident this time.

Klaus murmured something in acknowledgment before continuing, "I'm sure Mr. Donovan would appreciate some privacy, at a time like this. So I won't intrude. Text me when you get home."

She said she would, reassured him once again, and then hung up. Tucking his phone away, the werewolf felt calmer for having spoken with Bonnie. But he was still very, very angry. She could have been in serious physical danger this afternoon or had her identity as a supernatural being exposed.

Those with special abilities are often feared and Klaus knew only too well the kind of violent, desperate action that men, driven by fear, will take.

He shuddered to think what the council would do if they ever found out about Bonnie, a hybrid vampire-witch. The council. A bunch of stuffed shirts who's knowledge of the supernatural could barely fill a teaspoon. They wouldn't have been able to detect the warlock without help. Tristan was too smart for that and it was too carefully laid out for it to be a coincidence.

Then there was Bonnie's hesitation when he asked about the ambush. She was hiding something and she would only do that because she knew he's violent as hell and some answered questions could turn ugly. She must know that someone in their inner circle had tipped them off. Someone had arranged for them to find Tristan. Someone, his fists clenched as the pieces fell into place, was a fucking _liar._

With a scowl, Klaus took off in the direction of the Salvatore boarding house.

* * *

**Bonnie chewed nervously on her bottom lip and replaced the receiver.**

She felt a little bad for not telling Klaus the whole story. But her uncle had a tendency to go from calm to murderous in under a second, and too many people had already been hurt today.

"How's your arm?" Matt's voice snapped her from her guilty musings.

She looked down, distracted, at the scraped up skin Elena had practically attacked with band-aids. The brunette had taken one look at Bonnie's injuries and marched her to the nearest first aid kit.

She shrugged. "It'll heal soon enough. It's just a scratch. Besides, you shouldn't be worrying about me. With everything you've gone through, the last few hours..."

Matt took a seat next to her. "You found out where mum is. And now the police know where to look. Caroline's on the phone, trying to get an update. It'll be alright."

"I'm supposed to tell you that," Bonnie shook her head.

Caroline and Elena came back into the living room, the latter brandishing a tray and four cups of tea that she set down carefully.

"That was my mum," Caroline spoke excitedly. "They found your mum, Matt! She's not hurt. But they're taking her to Mystic General, just to be safe."

Bonnie watched as her three friends took a moment to exchange hugs and express their relief. She didn't resist when Matt also pulled her into his embrace.

"Thank you," he murmured into her ear.

"You should thank Sheriff Forbes," she brushed it off.

"No," he spoke so only she could hear, "I mean thank you, for what you were willing to do. He would never have told you otherwise."

Bonnie pulled back and squeezed his hand, in a familiar, comforting gesture. He glanced at her injured hand, concerned. But she shook her head. The wounds on her palm were already starting to heal. So it didn't hurt. When Caroline suggested they head to the hospital, Bonnie took that as her cue. She made her excuses, told Matt, once more, how glad she was things worked out and she'd call him later. Give him and Kelly some time together. Then she headed out, not unaware of Elena and Caroline's curious stares at her exit.

Matt followed her down the drive.

"I'm not sure they believe you," he said. "I'm not sure I do either."

"Mattie-"

"Bon, we've been best friends since second grade. D'you really think I don't know when something's going on with you?"

Bonnie looked at her feet. There was a difference between lying and omitting. Matt had always been accepting of the fact that she couldn't always tell him everything, particularly as it related to her life as a witch. To that end, he had yet to ask her a question that would force her to stretch the truth – something she was extremely grateful for.

"You don't need to worry about me," she told him again. "Your mum needs you."

She looked up at him from beneath her lashes. His cornflower blue eyes searched her face.

"You've always been a good friend, Bonnie," he said at last. "D'you remember when I broke my jaw, in sixth grade?" he'd gotten into a fight with Trip Fell, when the boy made fun of Kelly Donovan's job. At the time, his mum had been working as a waitress. "I couldn't talk for three weeks. But you still came by every day. Made me milkshakes."

"That was all you could eat. I made a mess of your mum's kitchen."

"It was already a mess," he chuckled slightly. "The point is, I knew you were there. And that was enough."

He stepped closer to her, resting his hands on her shoulders in silent support. "I know there's something else. Something you don't feel able to talk about. And that's okay. I'll still be there. Just say, 'hey'," he gave a small smile, repeating the words she once spoke to him.

At his warm, gentle tone, Bonnie felt her guard drop as it always did with Matt. She pulled him into another hug , grateful for the familiar shelter of his arms. He held her tight, seeming to understand intuitively what she needed.

"Kick it in the ass, Bon. And be safe," was all he said when they pulled back. She nodded at him gratefully and then continued the short walk to her car.

Bonnie drove on autopilot, her mind ticking over everything that had happened in the last few hours; her conversations with Tristan, with Matt; barely registering her surroundings.

Had Bonnie been paying more attention, she might have noticed the familiar blue-and-white Camaro parked on her street. She might have picked up on the second energy signature as she entered her house. And she definitely would have realised there was a vampire sitting on her bed.

Damon was half-amused, half-curious. He had never had the opportunity to observe Bonnie, unguarded, the way she was now. His eyes narrowed when he spotted the band aid on her skinned knee. He had failed to notice her injuries when he found her in the woods. Bonnie took a few steps into her room and stopped, eyes fixed on her wardrobe. She was tense, tightly reined in. Something seemed to be shuddering intensely inside her, and he had the inexplicable sensation that if he touched her now she might shatter.

Whatever the little witch was wrestling with, she seemed to reach a decision. Lifting her arms, she drew her dark hair into a loose, messy chignon before moving towards her wardrobe with purpose. Kneeling on the floor, she shoved several pairs of shoes and bags to the side before tugging one of the floorboards loose. She was looking for something. Something she'd taken care to safely conceal. At this point, Damon figured he'd played voyeur long enough.

"Well I guess you can't be that mad, if I'm still invited in."

Bonnie gave a visible jerk and her eyes flew over to where he sat. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!" she demanded, hand clutched to her chest.

Damon lifted his hands in surrender. "Not my fault you're so remarkably unobservant."

"You're pushing it, Damon," she warned in a hoarse voice. "Why are you here?"

"I called and texted and you ignored me, so I came over."

"I lost my phone in the woods, not that I had any intention of talking to you," she turned away from him and continued rooting around in her closet.

Damon bristled at her dismissal. "We need to finish our conversation."

"Get out, Damon."

The vampire was rapidly losing his resolve to handle things like a mature, grown-up.

"No. I've listened to more than my share of lectures from you, Judgey," he snapped back. "The least you can do is hear me out."

She gave a huff of sound – maybe bitter amusement. Bonnie hauled herself to her feet, turning on her heel to stare at him again.

"Well this should be good. What excuse have you cooked up this time?"

"I'm not going to apologise for trying to take a homicidal warlock down," he didn't miss a beat. "Everything we know of this guy points to the fact he's dangerous and unpredictable."

"Exactly!" something deep and hot blazed in her jade eyes. She looked like she might explode at any minute.

Damon was actually relieved by her outburst. This spitfire was the Bonnie he was familiar with. Not the cold, almost indifferent person she'd been moments before.

"Never mind the major betrayal of trust, that you just sort of breezed past...you couldn't know what would happen, what Tristan might do. And you led those men right to him!"

He knew her words had some relevance. He had lied to her, by omission anyway. But his own temper flared up, swallowing any guilt he might have felt. He hit back, "You hypocrite! You get all outraged at me, conveniently forgetting that you were about to take the exact same risk by meeting that lunatic. I'm supposed to be alright with that?"

"It's frankly none of your business, is it?" Her voice was sharp with bitter sarcasm as her anger boiled over. "You're not my father, you're not my brother, and you're sure as hell never gonna be my boyfriend! If I decide to _risk my life_, that's my choice. And if you don't like it, that's just tough. At least I'm honest about it."

The righteousness of her words bounced off the passionate intensity evident in Damon's tense features. "Okay, fine. I went behind your back," he gritted out. "I'll...apologise. But only for that," he was quick to add. "I saw an opportunity to take Tristan out, I took it. And from where I'm standing, it worked. He gave up Kelly Donovan's location, and let you go."

Bonnie released a strange noise. "You're not actually trying to take credit for this?"

Damon gave a clumsy shrug. "We should both take credit. Without one, we'd never have achieved the other. We were a perfect team."

"Yeah well, much as that idea thrills me, you'll understand if I'm not in a hurry for a repeat performance."

"Why are you so mad?" Damon demanded, moving towards her. He was bewildered and oddly thrilled, even as he was fighting off frustration with her attitude. "Was it a foolproof plan? No. But all things considered, it had a pretty favourable outcome. Kelly's safe, and Tristan's off our back. For a while at least."

Bonnie's hand tightened around the ring in her palm. She turned away from him suddenly and walked to her bedroom window. The sun was hanging lower in the sky. It was almost three. "Go away, Damon."

"I'm not going to go away," he went over to stand to the side and just behind her. As he scanned her face and posture, Damon realized that Bonnie wasn't just upset and angry. She was brooding – troubled.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he snapped, even more confused, and with anxiety now mingled in as well. This all seemed so out of the blue to him. Even in her anger, Damon was used to seeing Bonnie as perfectly in control. The little witch had self-possession in bucket loads.

"Bonnie, tell me what's going on," he reached out to touch her, but then dropped his hand when she made no reply. "Is this just about what happened in the woods? Or is there something else?"

"Something else," she repeated, still staring fixedly out the window, like she was trying to grasp an important fact that kept eluding her. "Maybe you could call it that." The ring was practically burning in her palm. She took a deep breath and tried to figure out how best to handle this.

"I've told you to leave, Damon. I won't be held responsible for what might happen if you don't." It was a warning. A last ditch effort to make him back off.

He snorted. "That's ridiculous. You told me once, that you can take whatever I've got. Well that goes both ways, Bon-bon," he took a few steps over until he was standing directly in front of her. "If you have something to say, then say it. If you have something to do, then do it."

Her mouth dropped open. They had reached a stalemate. Damon was incredibly stubborn. Now that he'd scented the proverbial blood in the water, he wasn't going to let this go. The vampire was nothing if not determined, and Bonnie didn't have the energy for a long, drawn out confrontation with him, as well as her looming tête-á-tête with Tristan.

She would have to give in to one of them, and right now, Damon was the better option. "Fine," she said slowly and something different blazed in her eyes.

Damon listened quietly, until she finished explaining what happened with Tristan in the woods.

"You're going to meet him, aren't you?" her silence was all the confirmation he needed.

He rubbed his forehead between his fingers and released a long, shuddering breath that he didn't need. The little vamp-witch was determined to get herself killed over something stupid.

"It's not stupid." Damon blinked, realizing he'd spoken that last thought out loud.

"You know this is a trap," he tried to reason with her. "He feeds you some line about surrendering, gets you to doubt yourself, and then lures you to him."

"Lure? You make him sound like a paedophile at a park."

"Isn't he?" Damon scoffed. "I mean thanks to his curse, the guy's gotta be at least a hundred years old, right."

"By that definition, you would be guilty of kiddie porn too," she pointed out smartly.

The vampire actually winced. "Low blow, Judgey. And let's not stray from the point," he grabbed her shoulders, as if he could shake some sense into her. "You will be making a colossal, idiotic mistake if you actually go to this guy. And you're just not blonde enough for that."

She shrugged out of his grip, letting the blonde comment slide for now. "I looked into his eyes, Damon. He didn't want to hurt me."

"And you don't think a sorcerer of his power could fake any look he wanted?"

"I was there. You weren't," she moved to her chest of drawers, looking for a change of clothes. She needed to get going soon.

"You're being naive about this," he called after her as she disappeared into the connecting bathroom. He could hear the rustle of fabric as she changed.

"No, I'm not," she called back, her voice slightly muffled as she pulled the clean t-shirt over her head. "Tristan had many chances to hurt me. But he hasn't. If he really wants to kill me, what kind of plan is this? Why go through all that trouble when he could have ended me on the spot? _Many times_."

The bathroom door clicked and Bonnie emerged dressed in stone-washed jeans and a low, v-neck t-shirt.

"Because he's a sadist?" Damon practically sputtered. "Because he likes to toy with his prey?"

"It makes no difference," she shrugged. "I want answers, Damon. I want to know why he's risked so much over me. And if it is a trap, then maybe it's just time I got to see what I'm really up against. I have to face him."

His fist clenched and unclenched. Bonnie was incredibly stubborn. When she wanted to do something she did it and your opinion or views on the subject would be acknowledged after the fact.

"Alright then," Damon wished he had a glass of bourbon handy. "But just so you know, if we end up dead, I will kill you."

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Damon, you don't have to—"

"I told you before," he cut her off. "You're out of your mind if you think I'll let you chase after this guy alone. Besides," the corner of his mouth quirked in a familiar half smile, "thrill of the unknown, almost certain death, small chance of success," he inclined his head towards her, "that's my kinda party."

* * *

**Bonnie would be lying if she said that the prospect of another road trip with Damon didn't leave her feeling a little apprehensive.**

But despite her attempts to dissuade him, the vampire's doggedness prevailed. Still, she didn't understand why he was so insistent. Unbeknownst to Bonnie, Damon was pondering the same thing.

Realising that Bonnie was in physical danger had been difficult for him. And unexpected. Damon wasn't sure what to make of that. But the moment it became clear she was dead set on confronting Tristan, he made up his mind to go with her.

They had been driving for a little over an hour when the dirt road abruptly came to an end. Getting out of the car, Bonnie saw that they had reached the edge of a dark, scrubby pine forest that covered the lower half of a steep hill.

"I guess we have to walk from here."

"Walk where exactly?" Damon slammed his door shut. "Do you see a trail?"

_The ring will guide you. You'll understand when the time comes._

She recalled the warlock's words. Damon lifted his eyes curiously as Bonnie slid the silver band on her finger.

_Use it to summon Morrigan._

After a few moments, the topaz stone began to glow gilding both of them with lush gold. Then she heard it. The swift beating of wings as a bird swooped low over the tree tops, before landing gracefully on the roof of Damon's car.

"Is that a-"

"Phoenix," Bonnie spoke with quiet reverence. The creature closely resembled an eagle, but it's plumage was partly golden, and partly red. Her eyes widened as the bird looked right at her. His head cocked and he took off again, flying low enough that they could still see him.

"I think we're meant to follow it," she realised.

"Are you kidding me?" he was incredulous.

"Tristan said, the ring would summon Morrigan. That I'd understand when the time comes," she gestured to the phoenix that was circling overhead, almost as if the creature were waiting for them.

"So the bird knows where we're going. Great," he huffed. "A wizard sends his pet phoenix as a welcome party. When exactly did my life turn into a Harry Potter novel?"

Bonnie gave him a curious look.

"What?" Damon wouldn't quite meet her eyes. "It's not exactly _Call of the Wild_, but the books are alright."

Her eyebrows lifted.

"Plenty of adults read those novels," he gave her a challenging look, feeling ridiculously militant about this admittedly trivial conversation.

Her lips twitched and dry amusement was flickering in her eyes.

"Oh, shut up," Damon scowled and charged ahead of her. Bonnie trailed after him silently, but he got the distinct feeling that she was laughing at him.

The bird led them through the forest and to a rocky trail that zigzagged up the steep slope. They trekked along the summit, the sound of rushing water growing distinctly louder, and the sun was just beginning to dip beneath the surrounding hills, when they reached the trail's end at the edge of a deep ravine. Bonnie peered down at the swiftly flowing stream. The water below was only a thin steel line that cut the rocks in half. The stone cliffs began and ended in the sky.

Damon looked unpleasantly at a set of stair-steps, the only surviving remnants of what used to be a bridge from one side to the other.

"Looks like Fawkes has brought us to a dead end," He kicked at the four, worn planks. "There must be another way across."

Bonnie glanced at the bird that continued to circle over the water. She checked the position of the sun. Tristan's words echoed in her head.

_You must only attempt to cross the creek at sunset. Not a moment sooner. Or after._

_The ring will guide you._

The phoenix was still hovering over the stream and the sun was setting, bathing the landscape in warm light.

"We have to jump," her voice was a lot more confident than she felt.

Damon shook his head. "I'm sorry. You wanna say that again. 'Cause I could have sworn you just suggested we _jump off a cliff_."

"I know it sounds crazy-"

"Crazy? Try suicidal. This ravine is what? 30 metres high?"

"Damon—"

"No way you're doing this, Bonnie."

"I'm asking you to take a leap of faith."

"You're asking me to jump to my death."

"Fine," Bonnie put a hand to her forehead like she had a headache. They were rapidly losing daylight and her small window of opportunity was about to close. "I can do this on my own."

She took a few steps away from the edge, enough to give her a running start. Damon flashed over to her.

"Bonnie this is insane. You have no idea what you're, _literally_, jumping in to!"

She adjusted the ring on her finger. "Go back if you want to; no-one's stopping you."

He made a sound – almost like a snort. "Well if we weren't sure Tristan was trying to kill you before, we can be certain of it now."

Her blissful tolerance abruptly dissipated. Bonnie huffed indignantly. "I've already told you. If you think this is a mistake, then leave. Last chance, Damon - are you in or not?"

He didn't answer. Just gave a beseeching look toward heaven, as if he were praying for endurance.

"You better be right about this." They stood side by side.

Bonnie squeezed her hand around his upper arm. She hadn't even thought about it, just reached for him instinctively when the butterflies in her stomach started turning somersaults.

"On three," she exhaled sharply.

_One..._

Damon reached for her hand. Palm to palm, fingers interlocking.

_Two..._

They ran. Strong and swift, in leaps and bounds.

_Three!_

They jumped, no longer anchored to the earth. Sailing against the sky.

The world seemed suspended in space, an island floating on nothing.

Splash down.

**TBC  
**

* * *

**AN 2: **So I was a little worried about the flow of this chapter. There are a lot of scene shifts, and consequently, tonal shifts. But I tried to retain some sense of fluidity. See what you think.

Thanks for reading!**  
**


	17. The Vampire's Daughter

**Author's note:**  
Thank you all for the continued support and patience. I knew where I wanted to go with this chapter, but got a little stuck on how to get there. I've tried to do it justice. Thanks for reading, favouriting, following, and reviewing – each one is very much appreciated.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

**15  
THE VAMPIRE'S DAUGHTER**

_Splash down. _Bonnie would never forget the moment of impact. The first shock as they crashed into the murky depths and the second, more jolting still, as they hurtled through the water.

It was like being sucked down a giant plug hole.

She had no sense of up or down and was vaguely conscious of a hand clinging to her own. At the first glimmer of light, Bonnie grabbed for it. Twisting and tugging, kicking against the current. With a gasp, she reached the surface.

Gentle waves carried her to shore and she could feel soft, damp earth beneath her. She had made it. That was all she cared about. She was still alive. Half closing her eyes, Bonnie curled onto her side and rested. Her head was pounding so painfully she could hear it.

"Bonnie," she heard over the drumming in her head. "Bonnie, are you alright?"

Hands were on her. Touching her. Turning her over. But she couldn't seem to open her eyes.

"Bonnie," the voice said again. She was sure she recognized it—if only she could get her mind to work. "Talk to me. Open your eyes. Bonnie, don't you dare be hurt."

The voice sounded so rough and terrified that she felt like it was only humane to let him know she was okay. She peeked through her lashes and saw Damon's face inches from hers. Thought she should probably try to relieve his anxiety.

"I mean it," he was almost shaking her now. "Don't you dare be hurt."

"Wouldn't dream of it," she managed to open her eyes all the way. Saw the fear on Damon's face transform to overwhelming relief.

Slowly, she forced herself to unwind. She lifted an arm. It rose normally. She could feel the muscle working. The pounding in her head was also starting to fade. Bonnie heaved herself to her feet and Damon was instantly at her side.

"I'm fine," she told him. "Where are we?"

He shrugged helplessly. "It looks like the sea," he watched the rise and fall of the water behind them. But this was no beach.

Bonnie stopped in awareness of the earth around them. They were standing on the edge of a vast meadow. Cobble steps rose out of the grass. The stone glowed, wet with starlight. Far ahead, she could see a great priory rising on the hill beyond.

"What are those stones?" Damon pointed to a short scramble of boulders. Unusual markings were etched into the granite.

"They're runes," Her eyes widened. "I think this place was made using magic."

Together they started in the direction of the priory. It was the only sign of another human presence – Tristan. They picked their way carefully through a narrow trail among the boulders, to the first set of steps leading up the green slope. There was nearly a quarter mile of honest steep hiking after that. They bickered and argued, having to help push and pull each other as they clambered up the uneven steps. When Damon complained for what felt like the hundredth time, Bonnie swore that on the way back she'd be throwing him down the slope.

But she couldn't help grinning with a ridiculous feeling of accomplishment when they finally reached the top of the hill. She didn't even mind when Damon chuckled at her in dry amusement and walked on towards a dark tunnel that served as the entrance to the priory. It was a Gothic monument of shingles painted pigeon blue and stained glass windows. A small statue, no taller than a garden gnome, guarded the entrance. A face was carved on either side of the stone, reminding Bonnie of Janus, the two-faced Roman god.

Damon eyed the entrance suspiciously. Even with his vampire vision, it was impossible to see through the darkness to what lay beyond. A cool breeze curled around them.

"The wind's pulling us in," Damon's voice concealed well his growing trepidation. He lifted his eyebrows at her. "There's still time. We can go back."

Bonnie looked at him with a determination that never ceased to be startling, her eyes an impossibly deep shade of green. She didn't answer, instead turning to walk into the tunnel. He hurried after her. They walked side by side, close enough that their shoulders brushed against each other.

Bonnie reached out and to Damon's surprise, squeezed his fingers. "I'm glad you're with me."

He caught her hand before she could withdraw and Bonnie didn't resist. They were still holding hands when they emerged on the other side of the tunnel. The large courtyard was surreal in the starlight. On the west side of the quad, a door creaked open.

"Enter," a smooth, familiar voice called from the doorway.

In the centre of the room, a large fire pit had been dug out and was blazing with tempting heat. Both she and Damon were still soaked to the bone, having come through the river portal. Tristan du Bois stood before them, the firelight reflecting in his eyes like fractured crystal.

Damon snarled. "So this is where you've been cowering?"

The warlock's face was like a law of nature – a thing one could not question, alter or implore. "I am not here to trade barbs with the likes of you, _vampire_," he spoke softly, warningly.

The air crackled with tension and if Bonnie had not been clasping his hand it was likely he would have pummelled Tristan into the ground.

"I apologise for the cloak and dagger, Miss Bennett. But I've been having some trouble catching you without any number of unwanted hangers-on."

Damon was tense as a bowstring as the Catha warlock levelled another thinly veiled insult.

"If you have something to say to me, you'll say it in front of Damon," Bonnie said, a hard edge in her voice. "What do you want?"

"I don't want to hurt you. I know you believe I do, but that has never been my intention."

Damon gave an ironic snort, finally able to summon some of his courage and control. "Right. And that's why you've been chasing her all over Virginia? That's why you sent your flying monkeys to kill us? Because you don't want to hurt her?"

Grey eyes, cold and steady turned on Damon. "Miss Bennett's death achieves nothing. I've been tracing her because we need to have a conversation."

"Alright; let's talk then," she released Damon's hand, standing on her own, ready for battle. "What do you want to say to me?"

"After our first meeting, I was angry – I may have overreacted. I thought myself acting for your benefit. But my view of things was distorted through the lens of my own needs."

Damon sneered, hating the silky civility. Tristan managed to make the whole thing sound above board and natural, rather than a series of threats.

Bonnie's heart had been pounding with fear. Now it was pounding with something else. "You need Esther to break your curse. And I might get in the way of that."

"I understand that you felt trapped," the warlock stepped forward, tilted his head down as he spoke so his breath blew over her skin. "Perhaps I can even understand why you turned to a vampire. But I'm afraid you've mischaracterised my association with Esther Mikaelson."

She felt a chill come over her, but Bonnie didn't show any reaction in her expression.

"I am a Catha. In the days of the Old Religion," Tristan continued, "it was our sworn duty to protect and serve the high priestesses – nine women possessed of exceptional magical power. But for Esther, it was not enough. She sought unnatural abilities, to imitate life and suspend death."

"The immortality spell," Bonnie realized.

His expression darkened. "When I discovered her intentions, I tried to stop her. It was a betrayal. I'd broken my oath. And for that I was exiled. Esther cursed me, never to rest, until I had fulfilled my pledge. But I was not the only one beginning to see through her facade." Tristan's gaze shifted, staring into the flames at ghosts no-one else could see.

"Ayana was the most gifted of the nine. She wanted to give Esther a chance, tried to appeal to her nobler instincts. But her determination to see goodness in others would be her undoing."

The warlock stood, rigid, felt his shoulder blades drawn tight together and the weight of the blood in his hands.

"Esther tricked Ayana and used her to complete the spell. But something happened then, that Esther did not intend."

Bonnie felt her throat close up. "What does that mean?" she managed to ask.

"Nature always finds a balance. Esther's darkness could not remain unchecked. It would take several thousand years. The goddess' power had weakened. But magic is still the fabric of this world. And at last, a warrior would be born of this magic. A child of half-blood, imbued with equal parts darkness and light. And strength enough to master both," he lifted his eyebrows at her, expectant.

Bonnie stared at him blankly. Felt like choking; like the universe had been turned up-side down. Even Damon was silent.

"No," her voice didn't sound like her own. "This is crazy."

"Which makes it no less real. Your gifts, Miss Bennett, were given to you for a reason. You just aren't yet willing to accept them."

"Accept what?" Bonnie sputtered. "That my existence is some kind of...counterbalance for my ancestors' screw up? It's all part of some grand narrative?" her voice had gone up several decibels.

She looked desperately at Damon. As if the vampire could somehow offer an explanation that would make this all go away. He looked like he wanted to - which meant that he obviously couldn't.

Bonnie shook her head. "You've got this wrong."

"There is no right and wrong," Tristan looked at her steadily. "Only what is, and what isn't. You are not just the daughter of a vampire. You are a daughter of the earth, the sea, the sky. The connections are all around us. It is your legacy. Why are you fighting so hard to deny it?"

"I make my own path," Bonnie spoke fiercely.

"Do you?"

She was angry now. Her teeth practically snapped as she hissed, "What the hell does that mean?"

"There are other forces in this world besides good and evil," Tristan said. "Do you think it mere chance that your parents found each other? The odds of any sort of union between a vampire and a witch, are astronomical."

Her stomach felt like it had dropped out of her body. It was all starting to become utterly, tragically clear. Sensing her distress, Damon leaned towards her. His body all long straight lines and angles; he tried to comfort her with his nearness.

"How do you fit into all this? I mean, aside from trying to kill me," she made herself focus, thoughts flying as her mind tried to process everything.

"I have attempted to explain my behaviour. You continue to misunderstand," Tristan's gaze hardened. "The incident in Dublin, you were never the target."

"You meant to kill me," Damon glared.

"Naturally," the warlock spoke without regret. "I knew what you were and your presence in Miss Bennett's life was concerning. I decided to rectify the situation. I never imagined she would come to your defence."

"What about Vastra?" her voice sounded strange, kind of shrill. "You knew I was in no danger from Damon by then."

"That, in turn, led to other questions. Your familiarity with the vampires gave me pause. I had to question whether you were, in fact, who you claimed to be."

"So you sent the witch to do a little recon," Damon surmised.

"She was supposed to bring Miss Bennett to me directly, so I could carry out the interrogation. When she did not, it confirmed what I had started to suspect: Marina Vastra was working for Katherine Pierce. She had been sent to spy on me and learn more about you. Fortunately, Niklaus' timely arrival both confirmed your identity and," Tristan broke off with a dangerous laugh, "left me free to deal with the traitorous witch."

"Why couldn't you just leave me alone?" Bonnie demanded. Indignation was the only protection she had against a well of other emotions she couldn't possibly handle. "What do you want from me?"

"Perhaps you'll keep in mind after this that I don't always have monstrous intentions."

"What's your point?"

"I won't force anything on you," Tristan said, his voice cool, almost ruthless. "But if you'd like to hear it, I have a proposal I'd like you to consider."

* * *

**"That door was closed."**

"Was it?" Sheila Bennett lowered herself into the window seat next to Bonnie.

The girl sat hugging her knees to her chest, trying to make herself as small as possible. Outside, the night went from coal black to silvery grey. She was shivering a little bit, since she was still wearing her damp clothes although the cotton was almost dry now. But she felt like she was in a thick haze, and she was barely aware of the trembling.

"I think I know what's going through your mind, baby."

Bonnie looked up at her grandmother, her gaze searching.

"That the weight of your legacy is almost too much for one person to bear."

She gave a vague shrug. "Tristan's asked me to be his apprentice. He says I'm not yet strong enough, but he can teach me. Help me become more powerful. To stop Mikael."

"You told him no."

"I guess..." Bonnie said stiltedly, "I don't know..." she felt like she was deep in a dark tunnel, only a glimmer of light in the distance.

Sheila extended her arm, gently tugging her granddaughter closer in a one-armed hug. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Bonnie exhaled heavily. "Not now." She let herself rest against Sheila's shoulder. Grams was warm and soft and utterly safe.

"I don't know what's going to happen," Sheila spoke gently, "but I am sure about one thing. There was never anyone more capable than you, Bonnie. You can do this. And whatever else you put your mind to."

No more words were exchanged and the two Bennett women sat quietly together, waiting for the dawn and whatever it would bring.

* * *

**The boarding house was dark when he arrived back.**

It was an hour before sunrise and Stefan would be out hunting. Damon was feeling pretty ravenous himself, the events of the past twenty four hours taking their toll. His vampire vision sufficient, he didn't switch on any lights as he wandered into the kitchen. He preferred to feed directly from vein to fang, but right now he was too hungry to care. Damon grabbed a blood bag and raised it to his lips, drinking the gelatinous liquid greedily like an O-positive Jell-O shot.

Before promptly throwing it all back up.

Damon dropped the bag, which tore, leaving a bloody mess on the tiles. He felt like he was burning from the inside out and now his muscles were turning against him, contorting painfully. Doubled over in pain, he started choking on his own bile. Something warm and sticky was running down his upper lip. He reached up and his fingers came away bloody – his nose was bleeding.

"You really ought to invest more in the security of this place," a figure emerged from the darkness. "Because you never know when some lunatic's gonna turn up, with too much time on his hands, and his own ideas of a sadistic prank."

From the look on Klaus' face, the werewolf was in anything but a joking mood. A muscle in his cheek was jumping because of a ticking nerve. His eyes had turned amber, every predatory instinct active.

"Get up."

Damon tried but his limbs wouldn't co-operate, muscles refusing to pull their own weight.

"Don't be so pathetic, Damon," his voice was hard, cold. "At your age, a vampire should be able to handle a little vervaine better than that."

With a swift movement, Klaus was in front of him. He grabbed Damon's arm, jerking him to his feet so that the two men were eye level. "I knew you were arrogant, I knew you were a liar," he spoke calmly, his grip tightening on the vampire's arm. "But I didn't think you were an idiot." Damon howled in pain when Klaus all but snapped his wrist in half.

The rage flowing off of him was thick and intense; it was very obvious he wanted to do more than break the vampire's wrist.

"I've had enough of you snivelling cowards using Bonnie," Klaus began. "So the next time you decide to risk her safety, I will be waiting for you. And I will harvest whatever amount of your flesh I decide is equal to the offense. Do you understand me?"

He released Damon, coughing and spluttering, but the vampire managed to remain upright while Klaus delivered his parting shot.

"Don't put Bonnie in that position again. As far as I'm concerned," the grin he flashed looked very disturbing to Damon, "your life is forfeit."

**TBC**

* * *

**AN 2:** Did it suck? I agonized over this chapter and it still feels ham-fisted and too on the nose, particularly in the exposition sections.

Thanks for reading! Head on over to the next chapter :)


	18. Defend Me From My Friends

**Author's note:**  
So I've just started watching _Elementary, _bingeing my way through the season 1 DVD box set. I mention this because, the idea for this chapter's opening gambit was taken from an episode. When I saw this particular scene between Sherlock and Joan, I couldn't help thinking of my versions of Klaus and Bonnie.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

**16  
DEFEND ME FROM MY FRIENDS**

"Grams? You home?"

Bonnie kicked the door shut, her arms laden with flyers for Mystic High. The school was hosting a music festival next weekend, and she had just returned from a meeting with the planning committee.

"Tell me where Niklaus is and I'll let you live."

Bonnie dropped the flyers.  
She whirled around, eyes wide, and one of her hands fluttered foolishly to her chest, like some heroine in a Gothic novel. The masked figure stalked towards her. She tensed for action. Emerald turned to gold and, without thought, she hurled a spell at him. But the intruder summoned a counter hex of his own. The enchantment shuddered through her bones and sent Bonnie sprawling across the floor.

"I said. Where. Is Klaus?"

The teen witch scrambled to her feet. On shaky legs, she tried to run to the living room. Heavy footsteps thundered after her, getting closer.

Gasping with fear and effort, she glanced back which turned out to be a mistake. Her timing had been poor and her foot caught on the edge of the rug. Bonnie fell on her face. She squeezed her eyes shut. Saw spots of yellow and red. The stranger was standing over her.

"That's pathetic." It was a reprimand. Spoken with a distinct British accent.

Wait a minute.

She rolled to her side, lips turned down in a frown.

"Klaus?"

The figure removed his mask and Bonnie was staring into the familiar eyes of her uncle. He blinked at her owlishly.

That was it. Using every ounce of speed she possessed, the little witch closed the distance and struck.

Caught off guard, Klaus staggered back as he felt the wind knocked out of him. After a moment of glaring at her, he suddenly smirked.

"It's about time you got it right."

Her jaw dropped.

"What is your problem?" Bonnie threw her hands up in exasperation.

Klaus looked impatient. "Don't be cross. I told you to expect more tests of your ability to fight back." His eyes flicked over her form, as if she might vanish into thin air. "You have much to learn about the art of self-preservation."

Bonnie made an uncontrolled sound in her throat. "If you ever, do something like this again, I swear I'll-"

"You'll what? Fall over again?" He wasn't impressed. "The life we lead is dangerous, Bonnie. Last week, a powerful warlock attempted to abduct you."

"Tristan never planned to hurt me."

"But you weren't to know that at the time," He punctuated his statement with the flash of his eyes and a bob of his head. "You have to be prepared for every eventuality."

She shook her head, her heart still drumming wildly in her chest. Klaus had a point. But that didn't give him license to scare the life out of her!

"You know what, I appreciate your concern for me, I really do. But randomly _attacking_ me? That is not how you keep someone safe."

"You're right," His tone was light, pleasant. "Which is why I've offered to train you. But since you continue to refuse, I have no other recourse."

Bonnie tensed. "I already told you. Grams doesn't want me to." Her eyes looked anywhere that wasn't Klaus.

"Yes, that's a curious thing," his brow pinched in feigned confusion. "You see, I spoke to Sheila. To try to convince her. But she had no idea what I was talking about. Apparently, you never mentioned it."

Bonnie started twisting her fingers together and risked a glance at her uncle.

"The good news is," Klaus continued; a note of irony in his voice, "Your grandmother agrees. We both think that some form of training will be of measurable benefit to you. So, now that we're all on the same page, would you care to explain the real reason for your reluctance," He watched her now with an almost avian like degree of concentration. "It wouldn't have anything to do with me giving Damon Salvatore his comeuppance last week?"

"What? Of course not."

"You can be angry at me if you want," he went on, as if she hadn't spoken. "But don't be so foolish that you confuse punishing me, with punishing yourself."

"That is not what I'm doing," Bonnie said, feeling a familiar annoyance start to grow. "And this is not about Damon. But since you brought it up... " Her eyes narrowed and she could feel his intense gaze on her again. "…I do think you owe Damon an apology."

"I have nothing to apologize for," Klaus was indignant. "I've done nothing that I wouldn't do again."

"You shouldn't have attacked him."

"He deserved it. The man is an insufferable clod and a second-rate vampire," He spoke acidly, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

Bonnie sighed deeply. "Ok," she tried again. "You don't like Damon, I get it. _Believe me_, I get it. But if we're about to enter a fight with the Mikaelsons, we need all the help we can get."

"Help?" His voice dripped with sarcasm. "Is that what you'd call his little stunt with the council?"

"I'm not naive, okay," she huffed. "I know how Damon can be. He's...annoying. And lewd," Bonnie shook her head. "He's reckless, he prefers to kill first and create plausible deniability later," her hands flicked with nervous energy. "He can be cruel. But he's on our side, for the most part," she shrugged. "Isn't that worth some consideration?"

Klaus' lips pursed, eyes concentrated on her face once more. "Your defence of him is admirable. But our opinions on the helpfulness of Damon Salvatore are very different."

Bonnie observed him as he spoke. Her uncle's face was tense in an expression of forced neutrality, eyes raw and concerned.

"His actions endangered your life and risked exposing you and Sheila to the council. It was the cost of securing Tristan, and he incurred it willingly."

Klaus' hands were tense. Curling into fists then releasing to repeat the action a second later. It had been almost a week since the incident. But time had done nothing to dull the sharpest edge of his anger.

"This isn't the first time he's put you at risk," he stared at her with an intensity she wasn't used to. "That he has lied and attempted to manipulate you, on more than one occasion, reveals his character. At least it does to me."

Bonnie wasn't sure what to say to that.  
Klaus' words were not much different from the arguments she had made before about the raven-haired vampire. She knew, as much as anyone did, what Damon was capable of. In the last few weeks, she had learned to understand him. But she harboured no romantic illusions about his nature.

"Now, I recognize, circumstances have brought you and Damon closer," Klaus added in a gentler tone. "A relationship exists now, a bond of sorts, between the two of you. And I do believe he holds you in some regard. But," his voice was low and urgent, "given the right conditions, Damon's willingness to compromise that is something you should be wary of," He paused, letting his words sink in. With each sentence his expression seemed to grow graver.

"Our world balances on a knife edge of destruction, every single day. You need people you can trust. That you can depend on." His brow furrowed with sober intensity. "Can you say, with absolute certainty, that you think Damon Salvatore, is one of those people?"

There was a strange tension to the silence that followed his words. The whole time that Klaus had been speaking, an uncomfortable pressure began to tighten in Bonnie's chest. But she never got the chance to make her reply. Just at that moment the front doorbell rang.

"Speak of the devil," Klaus' smile was wide and insincere as he opened the door to the visitors. "Won't you please come in?"

Well, Bonnie thought wryly, this isn't awkward at all.

Klaus' expression was blank but she could sense the energy boiling over beneath it. Damon openly glared daggers at the werewolf, and Tyler was busy checking his pockets; blissfully unaware that the other men in the room were probably planning each other's murder. The high school boy released a sound of triumph, producing a slightly creased piece of note paper.

"I found it, Bonnie," he said excitedly. "It was just like you said. Mason based his code on _The Bloody Countess_. And he did leave me a message on those pages," Tyler rubbed the back of his neck, "that's where it gets a little tricky." He handed Bonnie the note paper so she could read it out for them.

_Some vampires have no brains.  
All vampires are bastards._  
**.**  
**. .**

Damon scowled. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"That he had a good sense of humour?" Klaus smirked at the vampire, his eyes dangerous and predatory. He gestured for Bonnie to hand him the note. She could see his mind working. Putting pieces together.

"It's a Bocardo syllogism," Three blank faces stared back at him. "A kind of logical argument," he explained, "named after Offa Bocardo. He was the King of Mercia in the 8th century."

"Figures," Tyler shook his head.

"Mr. Lockwood? You've heard the name before?"

"From my uncle. He used to tell me stories when I was younger," the boy shrugged. "Bocardo was kind of an obsession of his. When he was at Edinburgh, he wrote a whole paper on the guy."

"So Uncle Mason was a history buff," Damon was getting impatient. "You wanna explain how the syllogism works Professor Klaus?"

Klaus' eyes narrowed in contempt at the vampire's tone. But Bonnie spoke up before he could say something rude, directing them back to the essential issue.

"You've got two propositions," her uncle explained. "One major, one minor. And the 'therefore' symbol," he indicated the three dots arranged in a triangle, "is the clue."

"Some vampires have no brains. All vampires are bastards," Damon repeated the syllogism. "_**Therefore**_ some bastards have no brains?" His handsome features contorted in annoyance. "Is that it?!"

"Of course not," Klaus folded the paper away.

"So what does it mean?" Bonnie frowned.

"No idea. But Mason's given us a fighting chance: solve the riddle, find the moonstone."

* * *

**They were standing outside, on the roof of the building, with down town New Orleans spread out beneath them.**

A uniformed officer diligently wound fluttering striped tape around lamp-posts and railings, sealing off the area and banning access to half a dozen expressionless bystanders curiously looking on. Waiting for the body bag, Mikael thought: human beings are so charming.

"Congratulations, detective. I think you'll do very well," he gave that cool, predatory smile that was as dangerous as his anger.

"If I go where you point me," the younger man gritted out, "and in exchange?"

Mikael gave an elegant half-shrug. "Just a little information," he explained, with a leisurely disinterest that belied the power and focus of his nature. The detective's radio buzzed and snarled. His Captain was calling him to the scene. The vampire took that as his cue.

"Time to choose a side detective," He gave an exaggerated nod, a mockery of civility. Then he turned and strode away, as lean and powerful as ever.

Twenty minutes later, the Mikaelson patriarch entered the Fort. He laid his palm ritually on the three Greek helmets that stood on the hall table, the ancient metal cool beneath his skin. Buttons were pressed, low lights went on and Beethoven's Symphony No. 9 crept through the rooms following him, his feet soundless on the wooden floors. In the study, he poured himself two fingers of whiskey and slipped _The Book of Transfiguration _out of its drawer.

"Enter," he didn't look up at the sound of the firm knock on his door. Regis had something to report.

"Miss Bennett has met with the Catha," he spoke gravely.

"That is unfortunate," Mikael frowned.

"Sir?"

He took a tiny, delicate sip from his glass. "Tristan is a powerful warlock. A potential alliance between him and my granddaughter is…troubling."

"Well, for the time being, she still seems hesitant," Regis offered.

"That's something, I suppose. Are they aware we've been watching her?"

"Klaus knows about the vampire tailing her," the other man confirmed.

"Yet he's taken no action," The Mikaelson patriarch was pleased. "He's not ready to declare open war."

Mikael set his glass down abruptly. "Regis, I need you to send word to Henrik and Kol: we're advancing the timetable."

* * *

"_**And what do you want, you jerk?"**_

Damon rolled his eyes, doing a surprisingly accurate impression of the girl on the other end of the line.

"Always so sweet to me, Bonnie. I'm guessing Elena talked to you."

After Tyler's revelation the previous evening and the spirited discussion that followed, Damon had returned to the boarding house and found Elena waiting for him. She was ready to forgive him for his recent offences against her and Stefan. Usually, Damon would be only too eager to lap up Elena's attention and take advantage of her easy compassion. But this time, something made him pause.

"Bonnie told me what you did...that you helped her find Tyler. And with Tristan," She looked up at him shyly, from beneath her lashes. "I just wanted to say thank you. It meant a lot."

"I didn't do it for you," He remarked blandly.

Elena couldn't help the small step back she took, her eyes widening. But she recovered.

"No, of course not. I'm sorry," She offered him a small smile.

"For what," He poured a glass of bourbon. "That you think I'm only capable of doing the right thing if it's what you want?"

When his eyes narrowed she raised her hands in a peaceful gesture. "I just want to talk Damon, that's it."

"What would be the point?" Besides the fact that he was frowning Damon was showing little emotion, his azure eyes devoid of light. Elena faltered, suddenly less sure of herself.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, has anything changed between now and what you said to me that night?"

"That's not fair. You can't expect me to just dismiss everything I shared with Stefan."

"But you would expect me to play second fiddle to my brother, indefinitely?" He shook his head. "Go home, Elena."

The pretty brunette glared.

"I don't get you, Damon. When I wasn't ready, you chased me down. You forced your way between me and Stefan, insisting there was something between us."

"So it's all on me."

"I want to work things out and you're not interested!" she snapped at him.

"You know, all this time, it's been about what I'm doing wrong," he raised his chin at her slightly, "but I'm not the one with the problem here. How long are you gonna keep stringing me along?"

Damon's response had floored her. They'd argued some more, with Elena ultimately fleeing the boarding house in tears. He'd sipped his bourbon contemplatively. He didn't go after her.

At the other end of the line, Bonnie was saying something.

"Take a ride with me," He blurted out, cutting her off.

"_You're joking, right?"_ she spluttered. _"I've got my loyalties, you know. You can't upset my friend and then expect me to be your bosom buddy."_

Damon was tempted to say something about her bosoms, but he didn't.

"You got past what happened with Caroline," He pointed out instead. "And we've been getting along just fine."

"_Yeah, after like two years."_

"So you're saying I have to wait two years before you'll let this go?"

"_Let's not be dramatic. 14 months is fair."_

"Bon-bon, be reasonable."

"_Are you saying I'm unreasonable?"_

"I'm saying, just meet me damn it."

"_No! Get lost."_ But she didn't hang up on him.

Despite her bluster and defence of Elena, there was a flicker of something else. Disillusion, maybe? Perhaps she wasn't really angry the way she was making out to be.

"Bonnie," he ran a hand through his hair, further ruffling the already mussed raven locks. He sounded serious. "I've got something to say to you."

"_Say it then, but be quick about it."_

"Well, I never thought I'd hear myself saying this, but...well...I want to see you," he said earnestly. "I don't just want female company, I don't need you to cast a spell or kick some supernatural ass. I just want to see you for...you."

There was a pause. He was wearing her down. But he knew Bonnie wouldn't capitulate just yet.

"_Listen to you," _she said with a little laugh._ "You think you can charm every girl who crosses your path, don't you?"_

So Damon pulled one more thing out of his arsenal.

"**Please**,Bonnie." The air reverberated with his sincerity. She had momentarily run out of insults for him, and Damon saw his opening.

"I'm not in the habit of _asking_ for anything, Judgey; much less saying 'please'. But I'm making an exception here."

"_You know that your usual smooth, slick lines won't work on me,"_ she reminded him.

"I know," he agreed. "And I know that if you meet me, you'll be horrible."

"_Is that right?"_

"You're going to call me a bastard. And a…a…"

"_A Machiavellian asshat,"_ she supplied helpfully.

"Yes, that. And you'll do your witchy migraine thing."

"_Of course – you can't even imagine what I have in store for you."_

"That's OK."

"_You're a sick vampire, Damon Salvatore."_

"But you'll meet me?"

"_Actually," _she sounded a little guilty now. _"I have to go out of town."_

"What?! Where are you going?"

_"You are so nosy."_

His lips pursed. "Stop dodging the question."

"_To Bridgetown, okay," _she gave an exasperated sigh._ "And I have to go today."_

She didn't say anything else, waiting for him to acknowledge that they couldn't see each other.

"Ok. We'll do that then," He said instead.

Bonnie was taken aback.

"_You're...you're not serious?" _

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"_But...it's a two hour drive."_

"I have a car."

"_And we'll have to take the ferry..."_

"It's a nice day to be out on the water," he said pleasantly. "What time do you want to leave? I'll drive over and fetch you."

"_Damon!" _she shouted, outraged._ "How can—I didn't…you can't just...? Oh all right then," _She gave in huffily. _"And stop that."_

"Stop what?"

"_Don't think I can't feel you smirking at the other end of the phone."_

"Yeah?" His voice took on a low, intimate timbre. "You feel anything else?"

She told him to piss off and they finished making the arrangements before she hung up.

As Damon got ready, he was aware of a feeling of excitement and something that was almost like glee. Once he had spoken to Bonnie, he realised that he was tired of living in a house of mourning. He'd had enough of Stefan's brooding, suspicious gaze. And he was worn down by Elena's angst and indecision, the two of them going round in circles like a snake choking on its own tail. Sure, he and Bonnie locked horns more often than not – the little vamp-witch was stubborn, judgemental, opinionated, and an all around pain in the neck. But, even with all their bickering, she was fun. And fun was a commodity that had been fairly thin on the ground of late.

He pulled up to the curb outside the Bennett house and Bonnie must have been watching for him. Damon hadn't even finished putting the car in park when she came bounding down the porch steps.

"So what's in Bridgetown anyway?" he said, as she clambered in.

Bonnie turned to him with a mysterious smile; her green eyes sparkling. He had never noticed before how long and thick her eyelashes were.

"I'm going to kidnap someone."

**TBC**

* * *

**AN 2:**

The Bocardo syllogism is a real category in scholastic logic. And Offa of Mercia was a real Anglo-Saxon king. But he wasn't called Bocardo, and the syllogism wasn't named after him. I'm using a little creative license and conflating the two for narrative purposes. No offense meant to logicians and historians.

As always, thanks for reading!


	19. The Way It Often Happens

**Author's note:** Thank you all for reading, favouriting and following, and generally being an amazing audience! Thanks to those who have been consistently hanging out in the reviews section – your feedback is selfishly adored.

The writing style of this chapter has turned out a little different to my previous instalments. It's ended up being a more descriptive piece and is entirely from Damon's POV.

I've trotted out a bunch of fluffy clichés and attempted to transcend them – emphasis on 'attempted'. Finally, the Bridgetown in this story is fictional. Any resemblance to an existing place by that name is purely coincidental.

Thank you for your incredible patience with me. On to the story!

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. No copyright infringement is intended. I am merely having fun with these characters for my own nefarious purposes.

* * *

**17  
**

**THE WAY IT OFTEN HAPPENS**

Fingers drum impatiently on the steering wheel. He checks the time. She's been gone for fifteen minutes.

_Damon pulled the car into a deep shadow on the street, just out of sight of the main entrance gate. The blue and white plastic sign read 'Bridgetown Psychiatric Care Centre est. 1957'. _

"_Are we checking you in?" _

_She slapped him upside the head. He gave her what was becoming a very familiar sneer. Bonnie smiled sweetly back at him and turned toward the backseat._

"_It's Nelson that's gone crazy, like a depressed lover," She hauled her backpack awkwardly to the front. "His family dumped him here while they head off to Europe for the summer. We have to get him out, or he really will go mad." _

"_You can't just walk in."_

_He eyed the security plate at the gate. Staff and visitors tapped their little plastic token, worn on a lanyard, against the plate as they entered or left. Bonnie was busy digging through her backpack which seemed to be filled with all kinds of curious gadgets._

_Damon's eyes widened as she pulled out something that looked like a button trigger, a small canister and a lock pick. She finally held up a plastic security token in a lanyard marked 'Cleaning'._

_"Mystic High uses the same firm as this place," she explained. "I lifted a cleaner's pass from the school office."_

_"You've been holding out on me Bon-bon," his voice grew low and compelling. "Imagine the delinquency we could pull off if we really put our minds to it."_

_Bonnie rolled her eyes but the corner of her lips tilted into a half-smile. "I'll be back in twenty. You keep a lookout. Text me if there's trouble." _

_She was out of the car and heading for the gate before Damon had a chance to say anything._

A sharp rap on the window snaps the vampire from his musings. Damon unlocks the Camaro and Bonnie lets the older gentleman get in first. He is as short and round as a barrel, with iron-grey hair, dressed in a light suit with an incongruous polka dot bow tie.

"Nelson, this is-"

"Damon Salvatore," the old man smiles. Dark eyes peer curiously at Damon, over round-framed spectacles. "You're older than you look, son."

"And you're not getting any younger, sir," Bonnie says playfully. "We should get going. Nelson can't be late for his own wedding."

Damon puts the car into gear, grateful for Bonnie's distraction. The old man's eyes are so dark, so deep, like two infinite pools of memory and time. He's never felt more vulnerable, more exposed, before the curious gentleman's gaze.

It's only once they are back on the road that Bonnie's words finally register in his distracted brain.

"Did you say _wedding_?"

The sound of an alarm bell goes off in the distance behind them.

* * *

Professor Nelson Palmer is an empathic.

"He can sense feelings the way a telepath can read thoughts," Bonnie had explained. "Not all the time though."

His family had not taken this revelation well and dismissed it as the ramblings of a senile, old man, before having him committed for a trial period. This had distressed Nelson for many reasons, not least of which was his separation from his bride-to-be, Zaara. And so Bonnie had launched her rescue operation.

Now, in the early afternoon, Damon watches as the little vamp-witch takes charge with quaint authority to transform the local community centre into a suitable wedding venue.

"You don't have to stay," Bonnie walks up to him. "Matt will be here soon, so I can get a ride back with him. I know this isn't exactly your scene," she shrugs.

Damon doesn't say anything, his eyes tracing over her. Bonnie has her hair pulled up into a messy chignon, a few stray tendrils playing against her neck. She's been working hard, shifting garden furniture, unloading crates of glassware and crockery. A thin sheen of sweat makes her skin glisten. She seems to glow in the afternoon sun.

"I'll stay until the ceremony," is all he says. "You need any help setting up the canopy in the garden?"

Bonnie lifts her eyebrows in surprise. But she nods, accepting his help, and leads the way. By three o'clock, the canopy is up, the tables beautifully laid and the guests are arriving; among them a bride adorned for her husband. Zaara is a little lady with snow-white hair beautifully wavy and thick, an almost girlish face, pink-cheeked with soft hazel eyes, and dimples. Bonnie will be walking her down the aisle and Damon figures this is a good time to slip away.

"Where are you going, son?" A warm hand on his elbow stops him. Nelson smiles up at him. "Stay for the wedding. Zaara and I haven't even had the chance to thank you yet," He insists kindly.

So Damon finds himself following the rest of the guests out to the honeysuckle arbour. He shifts uncomfortably and is actually relieved when he spots Matt Donovan, still tugging on his suit jacket, as he hurries to take his place beside Nelson at the outdoor altar. The boy is briefly surprised to see Damon there, but he nods at him in silent greeting.

The guests group themselves as they please, singing a cheery folk spiritual as Bonnie accompanies the bride. Damon's eyes widen slightly when he sees the little witch.

She's changed into a softly clinging sundress, all cotton and lace, with a skirt that flares slightly and a hemline that pools just above her knees. Skinny ribbons pose as straps and tie in an imperfect little bow at the curve of her shoulders. She's let her hair down and pinned white, star-like flowers on the smooth ripples of her chestnut locks. In short, she's a vision.

Zaara joins her groom and Bonnie chooses to stand next to Damon, across from Matt. The two teenagers share a brief, non-verbal exchange and Damon feels his lips twitch. He recognises a Bonnie Bennett chewing out, even if it's a silent one. Matt is clearly being chided for his lateness. But a comical wiggle of his eyebrows and all is forgiven as Bonnie smiles back at the blonde boy. The vampire inwardly pouts. She never lets him off that easy.

The ceremony proceeds and Nelson and Zaara are pronounced husband and wife. The garden erupts into cheers and the celebrations begin in earnest. Everyone gathers round the prettily laid picnic tables, the food and wine flows, and a small band begins to play. Bonnie flits from table to table, mingling amongst the guests, making sure everything's in order – Caroline would have been proud.

Damon sits a little away from the revellers on an old stone bench and, for the time being, is content to observe Bonnie. She seems to be on a first name basis with most of the guests, stopping to ask about Mrs. Keen's grandchildren, joking with Mr. Irving over whether he will ever best his wife at scrabble. They are all warm and familiar with her.

At one point Bonnie's face bursts into a rosy bloom as she laughs at some joke one of the younger boys tells her. Looking at her, the weary vampire of the world thinks he has never seen a fairer, sweeter slip of girlhood than his little witch with her glittering green eyes.

He has never seen Bonnie this carefree, blissful even. Mystic Falls has them all in a near-constant state of strife and he enjoys seeing what she is like when she isn't worrying about the latest threat and who might die next. With all the drama of their daily lives, Damon has forgotten what simple sweetness, peace even, such ordinary human moments like this can bring.

A weight settles next to him on the bench and Damon turns to see Matt Donovan. The boy offers him a beer, the glass bottles slippery and dripping with condensation. Damon nods his thanks and they clink bottles. For a moment the two men sit in companionable silence, thinking long but not unpleasant thoughts in the lazy afternoon heat.

"I didn't expect to see you here."

Here we go, Damon thinks. He takes a long swallow of beer. It's nearly impossible for him to get drunk. Pity. It would make it a lot easier to drown out the coming lecture from Captain America.

"Look, I know it's probably not my place to say..." Matt starts.

"Then don't say anything," Damon says tartly. But the boy stands his ground.

"I won't pretend I'm not aware of your history, Damon," he says. "And I won't apologise for being concerned about Bonnie. But," the vampire raises his eyebrows in his arrogantly sceptical expression, "I also won't claim to know exactly what the story is between you two. She's going through a lot right now and I just don't want to see her get hurt."

"And that's what you think I'll do?" Damon feels a familiar flair of irritation.

Matt actually smirks. "Bonnie would never let you get away with that," he speaks with pride. "She's strong," a brief shadow passes over his face, "but one of her strengths is giving up what she needs, so other people can have what they want. Just," he looks Damon squarely in the eye, "don't take advantage of her, ok?"

There's an unspoken warning in Matt's gaze. But also understanding and something like acceptance. He's earnest. He's speaking to Damon man to man. And as much as he wants to, Damon can't resent Matt for looking out for the girl who is practically his family.

"I won't," he says finally. "I haven't always treated Bonnie the way I should, but I'm not just playing around. I wouldn't. She's my...friend." His voice is thicker than it should be, as he realizes the truth of that statement.

"Okay."

Damon blinks when Matt doesn't say anything else. "That's it? That's all you wanted to hear?"

The boy titters. "What am I supposed to say? Stay away from my friend you no-good asshole? Even though she's smart and strong and has always made her own decisions? It's already a done deal," Matt says simply, "Nothing for me to do but accept it. I don't even need to say that if you hurt her, I'll stake you," his eyes narrow playfully, "because I'm sure you already know that."

The corner of Damon's lips quirk and he nods, dry amusement flickering in his eyes. He suddenly gains a little respect for Matt. The boy is often on the outs of their supernatural circle. But he's clearly more astute than they've given him credit for.

He also appreciates the fact that Matt actually recognises Damon's relationship with Bonnie. Unlike the others who are immediately suspicious and always assume he somehow bullies Bonnie into suffering his company. Do they even know the little vamp-witch?

"What are you two doing over here?" Bonnie walks towards them. She is barefoot, swinging her sandals in one hand, and holding a glass of ice tea in the other.

"It's a male bonding ritual," Matt deadpans.

Damon snorts and even Bonnie giggles, because the idea of he and Matt bonding over anything is ludicrous. The two men are like night and day. But then, he replays the conversation they just shared and his gaze shifts to Bonnie. Maybe he and Matt have found something to bond over after all.

She sits down in the grass at their feet. Matt is making her laugh, telling her how nervous Nelson was waiting at the altar. Damon half listens, gazing steadily down into Bonnie's uplifted face. For a moment, his heart flutters queerly and, for the first time, his skin feels hot, flushed.

"_It's a done deal."_

He feels a strange pressure growing in his chest as Matt's earlier words take on a different resonance. Bonnie, oblivious to his inner musings, gets to her feet as the band strikes up a particularly lively tune.

"Come on Donovan, I'm giving you permission to throw me around the floor for this song."

"Is that a crack about my dancing?"

"You know it," she flashes a cheeky grin.

But she still grabs his hand and tugs Matt towards the dance area. Donovan is a hopeless dancer, but the two friends don't care. They jump around, laughing and goofing off. Matt is out of rhythm and instead of following the song, Bonnie moves to his beat. From the rhythmic sashaying of her hips though, Damon is pretty sure she's an exceptional dancer. His thoughts start heading into dangerous territory and he downs the rest of his beer.

When he puts the bottle down, Nelson is standing in front of him with a plate of wedding cake. He offers it to Damon and the vampire wonders if he looks like he needs cheering up, since people keep coming up to him with food and drink.

"Thank you, Damon. For everything you did for me and my Zaara today."

When he pauses, Damon cocks his head inquisitively.

Nelson continues, after taking a deep breath, "I don't want to overstep my place, but I wanted to tell you this. Be careful."

"What do you mean?"

"You and Bonnie," Nelson speaks in a hushed voice, with an almost mystical quality. "You're on the cusp; still at the crossroads – it could go either way. Circumstances may cause you to draw further or nearer to each other, but don't let her slip away."

Damon wrinkles his brow, that strange pressure in his chest returning tenfold.

"It won't be easy, but now more than ever it is you; the decisions you make, the actions you take. Remember that."

Nelson shakes his hand, something fond and glad and knowing in his sable eyes. Left alone again, Damon helps himself to some cake and strolls towards the dance area. Any more introspection and he'll turn into his brother. And lord knows one Stefan in the world is more than enough.

Matt is twirling Bonnie around. The flowers in her hair have come loose and fallen askew, giving the impression of a lopsided fairy crown. Meanwhile, Mr. Irving is being led around the dance floor by _Mrs. _Irving, to the amusement of the other guests. The song changes to a slower ballad.

_**I look for you with new eyes, everywhere  
I find new sights, likewise, everywhere**_

"Mind if I cut in?" Bonnie turns around, surprised, but agrees and Matt graciously steps aside.

They keep a respectable distance between them. Damon's hands rest at the small of her back, hers settle lightly on his shoulders.

"So what were you and Matt talking about?"

He smirks. "Wouldn't you like to know."

He spins her out and back in. Bonnie easily matches steps with him. They're closer now.

"I will say this. He surprised me. I fully expected Captain America to read me the riot act."

She slaps his arm at the nickname. "Matt is protective, but he's always let me fight my own battles," she smiles, affection shining in her eyes. "Besides, he knows I can kick your ass six ways to Sunday."

"That's fighting talk, Judgey," When he notices her smug expression, Damon scowls.

He spins her out again but tugs her back with a little more force than he intended. She ends up right against his chest and Damon finds he doesn't mind her being there. They adjust their hold to a less formal version of the typical waltz position.

Bonnie has to lean back slightly to look up at him. He can hear the blood rushing through her veins and a rosy flush is blossoming on her skin.

_**My heart's a flutter, I feel  
It's flirting with danger, I feel**_

"You forgetting our little sparring match a few weeks back?" She challenges him.

He remembers. Bodies connecting. Blood. Magic. Sweat. Pain. Flames. A kiss. His eyes cloud as he recalls exactly what led to them trading blows that night and Bonnie's words to him in the aftermath.

"_I'm not a bargain basement stand in for somebody else! And neither are you."_

Bonnie catches his gaze. Looks as if she knows where his thoughts have gone.

"Sorry," she bites her lip, "I didn't mean to drag that up. I know it's a sore spot..."

Damon feels a flash of ironic amusement, mingled with sharp bitterness. "Yes," he pauses, "but we've always been straight with each other. Don't go easy on me now."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

_**Restless, I'm restless  
Where are those flames?  
Restless, I'm restless  
Where are those pains?**_

He leads her in a graceful twirl and then guides her back to the circle of his arms. He's behind her now, arms around her waist, cradling her lightly against him. She rests her hands on his as they sway to the music.

_**The streets are swooning  
They're merging with you  
The crossroads, the milestones are calling for you**_

"So tell me. You think I've been making a fool of myself?" he asks.

He leans down a little, resting his chin on her shoulder. He feels her breathing quicken but she answers him.

"I think you deliberately seek out people who make you miserable."

"What else," he murmurs; his lips brush along her ear. A tremor runs through her body and Damon smirks, enjoying this new side to their usual verbal dance.

"You're not a nice man," she keeps up her end of the conversation. "You hurt other people because you want them to feel the same pain you feel. But I think you hate yourself, way more than you hate everyone else."

His grip on her tightens.

_**Restless, I'm restless  
The intoxication  
Restless, I'm restless  
The exhilaration**_

"I don't know if you're good," she admits. "But you make an exceptional effort for the few people you consider exceptions."

"Do you think I should be good?" He speaks the words against her skin; lips brushing faintly against her jaw line.

_**My heart is tired of treading, I feel  
It's yearning to fly, I feel**_

"It's...it's your life Damon. Only you can decide how you should live it."

He spins her round so they are facing each other once more. Bonnie doesn't resist when he brings her closer.

"What if I choose to hurt people? What if I decide I want the thrill of the hunt, the kill, the blood? That, actually, I don't give a fuck?"

_**I'm blushed, I'm flushed, for the first time  
I'm breathing, I'm dreaming, for the first time**_

He looks at her – her wide eyes, soft lips. Bonnie doesn't blink or even flinch at his statements.

"To thine own self, Damon," she says simply.

"Now you're quoting Shakespeare," he remarks blandly.

"Doesn't make it any less true. No-one can force you to be someone you don't want to."

"Hmm," Damon doesn't respond for a long moment. They keep dancing. "What if I hurt your friends?" his words kiss the shell of her ear, "What if I hurt you?"

_**These drops of fondness  
I savour the sweetness  
**_

Bonnie pulls away slightly – not withdrawing, just creating enough space for her to look up into his face. Her lips twitch; her expression half earnest, half ironic.

"You've already hurt me."

**_My heart's changing it's take, I feel  
It's turning my fate, I feel_**

* * *

At six o'clock Mr and Mrs Palmer leave and everyone goes down to the dock to see them off on the sunset ferry. He and Bonnie will take the next one, after she's done helping put things in order at the community centre. He parks the Camaro at the back of the building and makes his way up the little lane. The garden is bathed in a pool of late golden sunshine. Bonnie is waiting for him at the stone bench. She looks tired but happy.

"Ready when you are," she says, gaining her feet.

For the first time, Damon's eyes falter under Bonnie's gaze. The innocuous statement suddenly carries a wealth of meaning. He thinks about Matt's words, Nelson's advice, his own conversation with Bonnie.

_Ready when you are._

It's as if a veil that had hung before his inner consciousness has been lifted, giving to his view a revelation of unsuspected feelings and realities.

"Let's go Judgey," his tone is brusque. "This neighbourhood isn't exactly the Ritz and my baby stands out like a hooker in a church."

The veil drops again.

She rolls her eyes. Starts arguing with him about what a materialistic snob he is, and they're still bickering as they climb into the car and drive off into the sunset.

**TBC**

* * *

**AN 2: **Lyrics in _**bold italics**_ taken from song _Pareshaan,_ by Amit Trivedi &amp; Kausar Munir. No copyright infringement intended.

Thanks for reading!


	20. Fear and Loathing

**Author's note:** Thank you all for sticking with this story and for all your kind comments – it is very, very much appreciated.

I decided to split this "chapter" into three parts hence the shorter length. The remaining sections will be up soon.

This was written at break-neck speed, so I'll apologise now for any typos or clumsy transitions.

**Disclaimer:** Does anyone actually read these? Anyone? Still own nothing.

* * *

**18**

**FEAR AND LOATHING**

**He was crouched low.**

Keen eyes easily picked out the fresh tracks, the brushwood recently disturbed. His quarry was close and Stefan felt the blood sing in his veins. He straightened and made to head deeper into the woods when something in the air changed.

A prickling sensation at the nape of his neck had Stefan pause, looking back towards the town. He froze and reached out with his senses: the scent of pine needles, a low wind whistling through the trees, animals scurrying about in the undergrowth, nothing out of the ordinary. Yet Stefan instinctively knew that something other than the forest birds and beasts was lurking in the dark tonight.

* * *

**The minute she set foot outside** the library, Bonnie sensed it.

It wasn't the same as the stare from the vampire who occasionally tailed her. Or Klaus who often hung around her school and house discreetly guarding her. This feeling held killing intent and she remembered it from the night she encountered Henrik Mikaelson in the woods.

Bonnie's grip on her keys tightened as she reached the bottom of the library steps. It was almost eleven. Bishop's avenue was practically deserted, cloaked in shadow, with only a few street lamps to light the way. Her car was parked in a side street two blocks over.

She started walking, eyes scanning the surrounding buildings but Bonnie couldn't spot anything out of place. She crossed the first patch of darkness between two lamp posts and that's when she heard it.

An echo...

...a second set of footsteps...

She quickened her pace, trying hard not to panic.

That killing intent became stronger, closer. Where was the bastard? Every time Bonnie stepped into the shadows she could hear her assailant's tread; slow at first but steadily gathering speed. She was flat out running between lamp posts now; desperate to reach the temporary shelter of dim light before delving into darkness once more.

She could see her car, almost there...

He emerged right in front of her. The same vampire Tristan had pointed out to her, that day at the Grill. He smiled at her and it looked extremely disturbing on him. Bonnie shrieked in terror as she felt his fangs slice through the flesh of her neck, and she knew, this was going to be the end of her. If she didn't do something, she was going to die.

What she ended up doing defied all logic in her mind.

She wasn't sure who was more surprised when she managed to twist out of his grasp and then sank her closed fist into his chest. The vampire's jaw slackened in shock, a mix of fear and horror in his crimson eyes. Bonnie drank it all in, fingers squeezing around the organ. It was as if her mind had split from her body. Inwardly, she could see what she was doing and knew she should stop. But she couldn't. Wouldn't.

"Please..." he choked out, eyes widening in fear as he looked at eyes he had never seen before. Crimson with gold irises? Impossible!

With a single tug, she yanked his heart out clean through his chest.  
Something wet spattered on her face and the vampire fell in a crumpled heap at her feet. Her tongue snaked out, tasting copper as she lazily licked the blood off her cheek and she could feel the silver veins bulging around her temples.

"Bonnie?"

She spun round, still tensed for a fight, ready to strike.

Stefan Salvatore stood behind her, his eyes wide with alarm, concern and a little bit of awe. She could only imagine how she must look. Eyes like a demon, her attacker's dead heart in her hand.

Bonnie didn't say anything.  
The dark haze was beginning to fade but she didn't feel any calmer. Her heart felt unsteady, as if it was skipping beats; everything seemed to be closing in on her. She felt lightheaded as the two halves of her came back together – one that was logical and one that was horribly confused, enraged, terrified.

_What did I do? What did I do?!_

She turned away, completely ignoring the younger Salvatore. With shaking fingers, Bonnie managed to dig out her phone. She hit speed dial and it only took two rings before he answered.

"Klaus?" her voice was panicked, shrill. She didn't sound like herself. "I've killed someone."

* * *

**Another book crashed against the wall.**

Damon ran a hand over his face in frustration. Hours of combing through old diaries and ancient texts in the Salvatore's extensive book collection and shit to show for it. This was not how he wanted to be spending his Friday evening.

Normally, he'd be out at a bar, picking up drunken co-eds for a light snack and a quick tumble; or chasing after Elena. But tonight, he hadn't felt a desire to do either of those things.

He did call the little vamp-witch earlier.  
They hadn't seen each other all week, not since their field trip to Bridgetown. Damon wasn't about to admit that he maybe...sorta...kind of..._missed her._ So he asked her to come over on the pretext of doing research about Mason Lockwood and the moonstone. Bonnie turned him down, said she was busy working on some make-up assignment for school. And no amount of pouting or cajoling on his part would convince her otherwise.

"You'll have to find someone else to play with you," she'd said, clearly seeing straight through his ruse.

So with nothing better to do, he'd ended up doing the lousy research after all.

Books were in haphazard piles or carelessly discarded, and the heavy oak desk was a mess of papers. Damon decided to tidy up later or just leave the mess for Stefan to clear, and wandered to the front room. He was pouring himself a glass of bourbon when he heard a car pull into the drive. A door slammed shut and his vampire hearing picked up the rhythm of a familiar heartbeat. Damon smirked. He took his time before he turned to face her.

"Just couldn't stay away, huh Bon-b..."

Every muscle in his body became rigid as Damon was suddenly conscious of three things. One, Bonnie was not alone. She was with his little brother. Two, the dried blood on her face was not hers. Three, Stefan _knows_.

"What the hell happened?"

Bonnie shrugged although he could tell she was tense. "That vampire Mikael's had following me...he tried to kill me. I handled it."

A sense of uneasiness washed over Damon. There was something very cold and distant in Bonnie's mannerisms and expression. It reminded him of the way she'd acted after that night in Dublin, what felt like so many moons ago. She wouldn't meet his or Stefan's gaze for any extended period of time and there was a thick tension in the air.

"He's dead, Damon," Stefan spoke up.

Azure eyes snapped back to Bonnie in surprise. His gaze narrowed when he spotted the ugly gash on her neck.

"It's just a flesh wound," she said offhandedly. "The bleeding's already stopped. Nothing vital was hit, I'm fine."

Damon seriously doubted that. Bonnie looked very unstable. Some unnameable emotion seemed to shudder through her, bubbling beneath the surface.

"We should get you cleaned up," he said at last.

She let him lead her upstairs to his bedroom, but she remained tense and silent the entire time. When he tried to treat the wound on her neck, she pushed him away. Malachite eyes slid over to him and a lesser vampire would have jumped at the fire burning in her gaze. Bonnie looked..._**furious**_. He'd only ever seen her look at him like that back when she had been going through her, 'I hate Damon's guts' stage.

"I can take care of it myself," she practically spat the words at him. Damon glared at her in irritation. She was being stubborn and irrational. He wanted to argue the point, to force the matter, but if he pushed her now, she might strike out or worse, shatter entirely.

"Fine," he bit out reluctantly. He would let her have this round, but he wasn't happy about it. "You'll probably want to shower. There's a first aid kit under the sink and a clean shirt in my dresser when you come out," he looked pointedly at her bloody, torn sweater. "Call if you need help."

"I don't."

"Bonnie..."

She practically stormed into the connecting bathroom.

Damon stood dumbly in front of the closed door. He heard the water in his shower go on and it was apparent Bonnie wasn't coming back out. With a scowl, he headed back downstairs to join his brother.

"She's confused and upset, Damon. Just give her some space. She'll talk when she's ready," Stefan spoke sagely.

"What exactly went on tonight?" Damon demanded.

Stefan sighed.

"Bonnie was defending herself. She...she ripped his heart out."

"Shit." Damon downed his glass of bourbon as Stefan described the scene he'd stumbled on.

"Well that bastard shouldn't have attacked her!" he burst out suddenly.

"I agree," his brother spoke calmly. "But no matter the circumstances, something like this...it's a lot for anyone to process."

Damon didn't speak for a long moment.

"What did you do with the body?" His anger and frustration had quieted down to a lower simmer; his mind now focused on dealing with the problem.

"Klaus is taking care of it. Bonnie called him right after it happened," Stefan explained.

The elder Salvatore felt an irrational pang of jealousy that _he_ hadn't been her first call. Especially since the werewolf had been out of town the last few days. But he pushed it down. Now wasn't the time.

"He didn't want Bonnie to go home until he's certain security at the Bennett place hasn't been compromised. Sheila's at a conference in Richmond 'til tomorrow, and neither of us thought Bonnie should be alone, so I brought her here. Klaus'll be by later."

"Wonderful."

"You knew all along, didn't you? About Bonnie," something strange crossed over his brother's face. He blinked and Stefan's gaze was back to being impassive. "Bonnie gave me the cliff notes version," he continued, "kind of hard to hide after what I saw."

"You can't tell anyone, Stefan," Damon urged, surprising his brother with the fierceness of his demand.

"I would never do that to Bonnie."

Upstairs, they heard the water shut off and then light footsteps as the girl in question moved across the bedroom.

"I should check on her," Damon gained his feet and flashed all the way upstairs.

Bonnie stood in the centre of his room, her naked back to the open door. She didn't seem aware of his presence and Damon's eyes widened at the sight of all that caramel skin. Feeling a little like a voyeur, but not enough to make him stop what he was doing, he watched silently from the doorway, admiring the lithe arch of her back as she raised her arms to draw her hair up into a loose chignon. Once she pulled his t-shirt over her head, he stepped into the room, making his presence known. He gave no indication he had been watching her, not willing to admit the guilty pleasure it had given him.

"Bonnie?" he said softly, when she turned slowly to face him.

He actually saw the sequence of emotions flicker over her face. Astonishment. Disbelief. Knowledge. Anger. Guilt. Retreat.

"I'm tired," the words were a clear dismissal. Damon bristled.

"Stop it," he sounded angrier than he actually was. "This isn't like you."

A hard look emerged on her face. "And why," she began in her most frigid voice, "would you presume to know what I'm like?"

Damon snorted at that bit of ridiculousness. "I know you, Bonnie."

Then something changed in her posture, and something different blazed in her eyes.

"Damon—" her mouth opened, but she never got to form the rest of the words.

"Everything alright?" Stefan's form materialised in the doorway, his concerned gaze darting from Bonnie to Damon.

The raven-haired vampire inwardly cursed his brother's timing.

"We're fine," Bonnie pulled herself together with impressive speed. "It's late," she let the implication hang and Stefan nodded uncertainly.

"Right. You should get some sleep," he agreed.

Bonnie moved to follow the younger Salvatore when he offered one of their guest rooms. She avoided Damon's gaze as she passed him and he sighed, the moment lost.

He didn't think sleep would come easy for any of them tonight.

* * *

**The pain was unbearable.**

It felt like someone had taken his brain out and was beating it with an anvil. Damon was surprised that he hadn't passed out from shock. He was on his feet, but his equilibrium was out of whack. He staggered forward, hands clasped to his head, as he found his way to the guest room two doors down, the source of his agony.

Stefan was already there, in not much better shape either, as he tried to calm the girl tossing fitfully on the bed. Gold flashed beneath her fluttering lids.

"She's having a nightmare," Stefan grimaced, the vein in his forehead throbbing, "I can't get her to wake up."

"Son of a bitch!" Damon growled as the pounding in his head intensified. He leaned over the girl on the bed. "Bonnie...please_ try_..." he bit out. "It's just a dream. Follow the sound of my voice. _Please_," he reached for her shoulder.

"Shit!" a thousand red hot needles pierced his brain. Bonnie fought against his grip.

Suddenly, eyes like burnished gold shot open, wide and wild. She was shouting. Glass shattered. The window blew out into the garden below.

And, he realized, a single, terrified word was torn from her throat.

"_DAMON!"_

**TBC**

* * *

**AN 2: **Thanks for reading!


	21. Interlude III

**Author's note:** Thanks so much for sticking with me. Your encouraging comments and kind support mean the world to me!

I wrote this at about 3am so I apologise in advance if there are any grammar errors or typos.

**Warning:** Images of violence in this chapter. If you think I should up the rating, let me know.

**Disclaimer:** Still don't own a thing. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

_**Interlude III:**_

"_**Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift."**_

_6 weeks earlier, April 9__th__ 2010_

She was on fire.

She was surrounded by fire. The Camaro was exploding. It was on fire.

Bonnie was smothering. She couldn't breathe through the heat bearing down on her.

She couldn't breathe. She needed help. She needed help.

But she was alone. And the world was on fire.

She heard the sound of metal sliding from a sheath. Her eyes snapped to the warlocks standing on the edge of the lake of fire.

Two of them were restraining him, kneeling, submissive.

"DAMON!"

The desperate cry was torn from her throat as she watched the third warlock tilt and thrust the blade through Damon's chest.

His body split into two, dropping limply to the ground. She screamed. The fourth warlock was watching her. An open challenge in his silver-grey gaze.

The fire intensified. The world was a whirlwind of heat and pain.

And then something happened. Something changed. The edges of the world began to blur, like a mirage.

Her head was one overwhelming ache as she strained her vision to see beyond the fire. It felt like her mind had pierced through a thick fog and there seemed to be something significant about being able to think at all.

The harder she looked, the more the vision in front of her seemed to swim. Damon's body disappeared in a puff of smoke, then the three warlocks too disappeared.

It's not..._real_?

Grey eyes widened in surprise.

"So you can see through an illusionary spell," the fourth warlock murmured.

Pain exploded in Bonnie's head and she dropped to her knees. When she looked up, the fire was gone. Two warlocks were advancing towards her.

"Let's see what else you can do, _dhampire_," they taunted.

Her eyes blinked as a surge of information came to her, she couldn't tell how.

Not two, _four_. Four warlocks were preparing to attack.

The other two males were attempting to sneak up on her, while their comrades distracted her. Their energy signatures appeared and disappeared, and she couldn't keep track of them, couldn't work out where they were coming from.

She rallied herself enough to stand up, legs shaking. Bonnie could hear the blood rushing through her veins. She was flushed and perspiring, the panic of awareness beginning to overwhelm her.

Move. Move. Her limbs wouldn't co-operate. Fear held her prisoner.

The men were getting closer. Getting ready to strike.

She still held the wooden stake in her hand, not that it would do much good against four warlocks. Her fingers squeezed the weapon.

_Ablinn__ò__u forl__æ__te __ò__u_

Move.

_Forp__fleoge gebl__æ__west ond sierest strangnesse_

Move Bonnie!

_Unastyred mid ealle butan ende_

Lightning struck the earth in an explosion of white, hot heat. When the air cleared, there was no sign of Bonnie.

No real thought had been involved. Her body had simply reacted.

Silver eyes clashed with crimson and gold orbs – the eyes of a demon. No. A _dhampire. _

It was quick.

Bonnie stood over the three fallen warlocks. The fourth had been able to escape. She ignored the pool of blood that had soaked into the grass, her hands dripping with the life fluid of her enemies.

Sucking in a deep breath, she pulled the wooden stake from the flesh of her thigh unable to stifle a strangled cry. Pain had been the only way she could break through the paralysing fear and so she'd inflicted the wound herself. Just in time too.

Bonnie roughly tore off a strip of material from her shirt and tied it as a makeshift bandage over her injury. It was the best she could do. Then she limped towards Damon.

The vampire was lying unconscious in the grass, a great gaping wound in his chest. He was so still, so stiff. His lips were dry and his alabaster skin was unusually yellow. Bonnie couldn't stop staring at him and did so until she felt her eyes burn.

'_Are you giving up already?'_ the voice in her head sounded familiar but she couldn't place it. _'You're not even going to try? Can't say I'm surprised. You're no Emily Bennett.'_

Ah. She recognized it now. It was _Damon's _voice.

Bonnie dropped to her knees beside him, not entirely sure why she was doing this. Except her mind was screaming at her to act. So she placed her hands against his chest and forcibly pushed her magic into his body.

Blood that had filled his throat was harshly coughed out and he jolted upright, blue eyes wide. She held him as he turned his head to the side, still coughing, and rubbed his back. Eventually Damon stopped and his body began to tremble.

When he spoke, his voice was weak. Weaker than Bonnie had ever heard him.

"The girl..."

"-Was a trap. I know. The kidnapping was a set up. They were waiting for us."

"What happened after I fell?"

Bonnie shrugged. "It doesn't matter now," she said firmly. "Can you walk?"

Together they managed to get Damon on his feet. But he still needed to lean heavily on her. Bonnie propelled them in the right direction and tried not to whimper. The added weight put extra pressure on her bad leg. Every step felt like hell for Bonnie. It was all she could do to keep from sobbing from the pain.

They finally reached the Camaro which, miraculously, was still in one piece, exactly where Damon had parked earlier. She helped him into the backseat and he didn't object to her driving.

"You aren't going to pass out or anything are you?" She asked, an edge of fear in her voice.

"I don't think so."

Bonnie really, really wished he'd given a smart comeback. A rude response. Anything but those simple, quiet words.

Damon leaned his head back against the seat. "I need..." he turned away, swallowing hard, as if he were trying to control dizziness or nausea. "...blood."

She swore under her breath. They crossed the highway and Bonnie drove for another half hour before they finally ran into civilization. The closest thing the small town had to a hospital was a clinic. It was shut up for the night, so Bonnie broke in on the slim chance they kept a supply of something resembling a blood bank. In the end she was only able to pilfer a few empty IV bags and a few other medical supplies.

Then they were back on the road. Bonnie chose to wait till they got to the next town before finding a place for them to hole up in. Twenty minutes later, on the outskirts of Dublin, Virginia, she stopped at a cheap motel and ran in to get them a room.

Damon practically collapsed on the bed when they finally made it into the room. When he turned his head to her, she wished he hadn't. His skin was so pallid and yellow it looked like it was about to peel off. Honey had bled into his usually blue irises making him look like a sick cat, and the wound on his chest was taking longer to heal than usual.

She heard a growl emanate from the pillow.

"Don't come any closer."

But Bonnie had always been stubborn. She ignored the warning and tiptoed over to his side. She was exhausted, her entire body ached and she didn't dare look down at the wound on her leg.

"Do you think you can hang in there a little longer?" She asked, in a voice that only quavered a little.

He grunted slightly and she figured that was as close to a 'yes' as she was going to get. She helped him out of his leather jacket and tried to make him a little more comfortable. Then she hurried to the bathroom to see to her own injuries as quickly as possible. She couldn't help Damon if she had passed out from blood loss.

The wound on her thigh was a little deeper than she had realized but she would survive. The antiseptic burned against the raw flesh and the tears that had been lingering in her eyes started falling. Bonnie wrapped the wound tightly with fresh bandages and quickly cleaned up. She needed to get back to Damon.

Picking out the necessary supplies, Bonnie sucked in a deep breath before she left the small bathroom, mustering up her courage for what she was about to do. Damon was in much the same position as she'd left him, sprawled on his back, the fingers of his left hand twitching against the ground. But he sat up slightly when he saw what she was planning to do.

"Bonnie, no," he gasped weakly as she knotted the rubber band tightly around her left bicep. "I can't ask you to do this."

She shrugged. "You didn't have to."

Damon's eyes narrowed as he watched her prepare the syringe. Her hands shook slightly as she took the needle out of its plastic case. It was terrifying trying to safely guide the needle into her vein. But she was reasonably steady and it didn't hurt too much. What Bonnie found more disconcerting was the look on Damon's face as blood filled the plastic bag. It was needy and lustful. That wild spark in his eye reminded her of the night he'd gone totally off the rails and attacked her.

She withdrew the syringe and handed him the now full blood bag feeling a little bit sick. She had just broken her own rule: drinking her blood was invasive and perverse. But it would keep him alive. Still, as she placed a band-aid over the puncture mark Bonnie wondered if she shouldn't have done it. Damon may have suffered, but he was a reasonably strong vampire. It would have been agony, but he could have survived the trip back to Mystic Falls. And she wouldn't have abandoned her morals.

When Bonnie emerged from the bathroom again, most of the amber had disappeared from his eyes. Damon looked like a sick version of himself, rather than a desiccating one. She'd made the right decision. Even if she hated herself a little for it.

The blood bag was empty.

"Bonnie..." he trailed off. Neither knew what the right thing to say was.

"It's...it's fine. Just..." she made an ambiguous gesture. "You should rest. We'll leave in the morning."

He shifted to make room for her next to him on the bed. But Bonnie shook her head, taking the polyester bedspread. "I'll sleep on the floor." Damon blinked but didn't say anything.

An awkward pause and they continued to just stare at each other. Finally, Bonnie moved.

Using the bedspread as a mattress, she eased herself down. She rested on her good side, her hands pillowed beneath her head. Damon switched off the light, never taking his eyes off her.

"Are you ok?"

There was a moment of silence. She had always been stubborn. Always been proud.

"When am I not?"

**TBC**

* * *

**Notes: **

_**Bold italic**_ quote at the beginning is by Mary Oliver.

I'm not American and my knowledge of US geography is superficial so I'm taking massive creative liberties with my depiction of the state of Virginia.

In some versions of East European folklore, 'dhampire' was the name given to a child with a vampire father and human mother. These children were always boys and typically became vampire hunters.

Thanks for reading! For those of you wondering about Bonnie's dream and about that ill-fated road trip she and Damon took before the start of this story, hopefully this instalment has answered some of your questions.

Last part of this "chapter" will follow soon!


	22. Fear and Loathing II

**Author's note:** Here's the last part of chapter 18. Thank you guys so much for all the love and support you've been showing this story. I hope I can continue to earn your goodwill.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

**18**

**FEAR AND LOATHING II**

His first reaction was absolute shock, as he realized what Bonnie was dreaming about.

Then it was a kind of stunned nausea as he finally understood what had happened that night, after he fell.

"Damon?" Stefan said softly, as Bonnie's frantic movements calmed and she seemed to fall back to sleep. Relief washed over him as the pounding in his head finally eased away.

"Damon?" he repeated sharply, when his brother had done nothing but stare at the girl on the bed. Something like awe flickered in his blue gaze, immediately followed by anger and guilt.

Stefan smacked him across the face. Hard.

"Ouch!" he exclaimed; the surprise and sting of the slap finally knocking him out of his stupor. "What was that for?" Damon glared at his brother in fury.

"I need you to focus," Stefan was unapologetic. "We'll need to board up that window. Can you move Bonnie into one of the other rooms?"

"I'll put her in my bed," Damon said, sounding a little less grouchy. He scooped her into his arms. She was so small.

Bonnie struggled in his grip at first, still lost in her dreams. She hit out, unnaturally strong, and one of her fists landed on his cheek, hitting him with so much force his eyes watered.

"It's alright, Bonnie," Stefan spoke soothingly. "It's over now. And you're safe."

Damon felt a sharp pang of irrational possessiveness, of resentment, when she seemed to calm down at the sound of his brother's voice. But he suppressed the feeling, since other things were so much more important. He adjusted his hold on Bonnie, cradling her protectively against his chest and idly kissed her forehead. Not caring that Stefan was watching him curiously the entire time.

* * *

It was dark in the room when Bonnie opened her eyes.

As awareness slowly broke through the fog of her mind, she detected a familiar light scent. It was clean, masculine and expensive.

_Damon. _

She blinked owlishly peering round at the vampire's bedroom. Her eyes landed on the clock. It said 2:35. She'd been asleep for a little over two hours.

An involuntary shudder ran through her at the memory of her dreams. But then Bonnie became all too aware of another discomfort in her body.

She needed to get to the bathroom.

Gingerly, Bonnie climbed out of bed. She flicked on the lights and walked to the bathroom. The air was cool against her heated skin and her t-shirt was sticking uncomfortably to the skin of her back.

She felt better after emptying her bladder, and then even better when she splashed cold water on her face.

Her hair was a wreck, she realized – she'd gone to sleep with it still damp, always a bad idea. The dark locks had snarled and kinked from water and perspiration, so they stuck out all over in unattractive flips and waves. She tried to smooth her tangles down, but her hands did absolutely no good.

Feeling almost revived, she started to leave the bathroom. And gave a gasp of shock when she collided with Damon.

"Are you alright?" he demanded hoarsely, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders.

She gave a half-shrug. "Yeah. I'm fine now."

Something tense in his expression relaxed in a rush of relief, and the sight of that relief did something strange to Bonnie's insides. She pushed the feeling aside.

"Everyone has bad dreams sometimes, right? It's nothing."

"_'Nothing'_ didn't shatter the window in my guest room."

Bonnie visibly winced. She peeked out from under her lashes and saw that Damon was still watching her. That was when she noticed the faint bruise on his cheek. Without thought she reached up to trace the fading purple bruise.

"How bad was it?"

Damon shrugged. "I can handle you, Bon-bon," he leaned slightly into her touch. "On the plus side, Stefan finally got to share the joys of a Bennett witchy migraine."

Bonnie dropped her hand. "I'm sorry. The dreams...I can't always control my response."

"You called out for me," he said, his expression uncharacteristically sober. "You were dreaming about Dublin. When those warlocks attacked..."

She made a strangled noise and turned her back to him.

Exactly as Damon had known she would. But this time he wouldn't let her.

He marched over until he was standing in front of her. "Bonnie?"

She darted round him and moved to sit on the bed, still refusing to meet Damon's eyes.

He sighed. "I didn't understand before. Didn't realize how traumatic that must have been. I wish you'd told me."

"Right. Of course," her tone was bitter, sardonic, "Because you and I were _so close_."

Damon felt a flash of annoyance. "I tried to talk to you that night at the Grill," he gritted out, reaching out to grip her upper arms. "But you were too busy acting like a stubborn idiot. Acting like you despised me."

"I despised myself."

She spoke the words so quietly, Damon probably would have missed them if not for his superior hearing. But her confession caught him by surprise.

When they'd returned to Mystic Falls, Bonnie had shut down on him. He'd always assumed her coldness, her determination to ignore him, had been because she blamed _him_ for what happened in Dublin.

"Why?" he asked bluntly.

"For allowing myself to..." she trailed off, unable to get the words out over the sudden, painful lump in her throat.

Bonnie sucked in more air and closed her eyes, wanting everything to just go away. "I've done a lot of questionable things over the last year," she said, her voice wavering a little. "But I was sure, that my morals, my principles, would stop me from crossing the line."

"Bonnie..." Damon began to understand what was prompting all of this, and was pretty sure he knew what she was going to say next.

"How many times did I berate you for pulling stuff like this? For breaking the rules?" she swallowed visibly. "I took pride in knowing that I wasn't like that."

"Because you're not."

"I believed my actions were guided by something good, and right."

"They _are_," Damon insisted, reaching over to put a hand on her knee.

"I killed four people, Damon," Bonnie argued, tensing her jaw so tightly he could see the muscles twitch. "I look in the mirror...I don't like what I see."

Something seemed to be shuddering intensely inside her. She looked so agonized and helpless.

And Damon felt something tighten in his chest. Something he'd believed himself incapable of ever feeling again. He reached out, as if he couldn't stop himself, and took her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"Listen to me," he made his voice firm. Something very important was being decided here. "Those warlocks were going to destroy us. They weren't going to stop. What you did saved our lives and that's nothing to be ashamed of," he breathed, gratitude and something like wonder on his face. "As for that vampire tonight...I know very well you had a damn good reason for killing him. Self-defense—"

"It wasn't self-defense," Bonnie looked away.

Damon released her face abruptly. He gaped at her. "Bonnie, I saw your neck."

"I fought him off, Damon," she argued, in that same edgy voice. "I had the situation under control...I...I didn't have to kill him," she was almost in tears now – out of an overflow of emotion and a guilt that was annihilating her from the inside out. "This is me," she gave him a strange look. "This is what I do..."

"That's crap," Damon spat out at her. "What are you going to tell me next? That you're some kind of monster?!"

"I broke my own rules," she responded.

"You did what you had to!" Damon raged. He understood why this was difficult for Bonnie, but he was a little impatient nonetheless. "The problem with rules, Bonnie, is that they create the illusion the world is simple - that things exist in black and white. But in reality, it's mottled and patchy."

"And that makes it okay?"

"That's just the way it is," he said bluntly.

Bonnie shook her head. "I'm not sure that's enough."

Damon had no idea what to say to that, no idea how to make any of this better. They sat in silence for a really long time.

Until finally Bonnie murmured, "Do you ever feel like, no matter how hard you try to hold on, it all just slips through your grip?"

He knew exactly what she meant. How many times had he thought he'd built something solid, only to have it all crumble beneath his feet.

"What seems to be falling out of your grip?" he prodded.

Bonnie gave a clumsy shrug. "I don't know. Truth," A pause. "My place in the world." She inhaled and exhaled before she added, "Sanity."

Something tightened painfully in his chest at the implications of her words. "That's not going to happen," his voice held a note of steely determination. Then, so there was no misunderstanding, he added, "I won't let you slip away, Bonnie."

Something changed in her eyes. She searched Damon's gaze. He seemed to be trying so hard to get through to her, willing her to understand and accept this. They stared at each other for a stretch of time, his eyes aching, hers not far from tears.

A stillness settled on them. A waiting.

Damon moved slightly and Bonnie jumped. He was stroking her hair back off her forehead.

Bonnie couldn't think clearly. Her emotions had been buffeted all evening, in more ways than she could possibly process. She didn't know if this was the right thing to do, but she didn't want to pull away.

Damon leaned forward, reaching up to cup the back of her head with one hand. That little alarm bell in the recesses of her mind was turning into a klaxon wail. He stared down at her, his eyes dark and serious, and didn't move. Bonnie stared back at him. They were approaching a border, about to cross into unknown territory. If she had any sense, she would stop them. But she couldn't look away.

It was horrifying.  
In a very nice way.

Something weird was going on. Damon felt hot. He wasn't sure why. A moment ago, he'd been watching Bonnie. Listening to her. She sounded so lost, so terribly young, and something tender and protective started rising inside him, stronger than anything he'd experienced before. That instinct was still there, but now there was also something else.

He was suddenly aware of all sorts of things about Bonnie that he hadn't been before. Like, her eyelashes. They were so long and thick it was indecent. And had her mouth always been that sexy? If he hadn't been so scared of what it meant, he would have loved it.

Why now?

It was the worst possible time, the most inappropriate moment. And his mind was working blurrily as he tried to think of reasons why he shouldn't be doing this, be _feeling_ this way. Then Bonnie looked up at him, something soft and speaking in her emerald eyes. And suddenly, it felt so entirely natural to be sharing this moment with her. _With_ _her_.

He stopped questioning it and leaned down.

Bonnie knew he was going to kiss her.  
They hovered in space, mouths almost touching, moving infinitesimally closer. When her nerves were stretched to screaming point, he bent his head, put his lips to hers, and kissed her.

It was brief, almost tentative. Then he pulled back. They stared at each other. He heard her suck in a breath. Her head turned in his direction. She didn't pull away.

So he moved towards her again, and claimed her mouth once more. His lips were hungrier this time as they moved against hers and his eagerness triggered a rippling pleasure all through her body.

She kissed him back.  
Because she wanted to kiss him back.

A wave of pleasure and need rose up inside her without warning. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, loving how firm and real he felt. And he tasted musky and sweet, compelling her to open her mouth to the demands of his tongue. Damon made a guttural sound in response.

Bonnie was delicious. She had such a perfect mouth and the smoothest _skin_. She clutched at his shoulders with one hand. The other slipped under the hair at the nape of his neck, where she did some kind of manipulation with her thumb and index finger, triggering nerve endings that made his body tighten with even more carnal interest. He kissed her harder, deeper, his lips almost clumsy in their neediness. Damon felt like his head might explode as pleasure and need shuddered through his entire body. He was shaking because he wanted her so much.

And all they were doing was _kissing_. Kissing and caressing each other in totally chaste places.

Finally, Bonnie pulled away from him. She gasped wetly. Damon looked _amazing_. His pupils were dilated. His hair was all messy and the expression on his face was the best – he looked like a man in love, or in lust, at the very least.

He put both hands on her face, holding it as gently and carefully as if her head was a brimming bucket of sulphuric acid. The tender gesture was in stark contrast to the carnal excitement that was still shuddering through his body.

"Bonnie," he sounded passionate and intense.

Then the door opened. Klaus burst in. Even though Bonnie and Damon sprang apart with the high-jump ability of spring lambs, he still saw what was in progress.

_Oh fuck_, Damon thought right before the werewolf's fist connected with his face.

**TBC **

* * *

**AN2:** It happened! I was really nervous about 'the kiss' because I've never written anything like this before. I hope it was ok and at least somewhat met your expectations.

Thanks for reading. :)


	23. The Beast In Me

**Author's note:** Wow! Thank you so much for reading! Your continued enthusiasm and support has been more than anyone can ask for. And for those of you who take extra time out of your days to leave comments – I read every single one because each and every review is important to me!

Some of you were annoyed by Klaus last chapter. I'll just say this: if you found your niece kissing a guy in _his bedroom_ \- a guy with a history of being manipulative and a reputation as a Lothario. And there they were, carrying on, just hours after you found her in an emotionally vulnerable state, well...that might kick your protective instincts into overdrive. I'm not saying beating his head in was the best way to go, but there was some logic behind Klaus's actions - he didn't just see Damon and go 'SMASH!' Sorry Damon. But karma's an angry werewolf lol!

I'll shut up now. On to the story!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own a thing...blah, blah blah.

* * *

**19**

**THE BEAST IN ME**

Damon was pleasantly surprised at the sight of the familiar Prius parked in the drive.

After the great snogging episode of 2010, he'd felt certain that Bonnie would avoid him - especially if Klaus, the meddlesome fucker, had anything to say about it.

There had been yelling.  
Lots of yelling, after Klaus had caught them taking a snog-breather. Bonnie managed to stop her uncle from rearranging his face and had quickly hustled him out of the room.

"_That slimy bastard!" that was Klaus. "What the hell does he think he's playing at?! Treating you like a -a-"_

"_It wasn't like that," Bonnie tried to explain. "And I can handle myself-"_

"_No. You were __**being **__**handled **__by leather fangs back there. He's got a lot of bloody nerve! But I'll fix him, I'll-"_

"_Klaus, just leave it!" She had sounded mortified. "Damon didn't do anything wrong. And you! You can't go around punching people whenever you feel like it! We need to have a serious talk about boundaries..."_

_They continued arguing until Damon heard the front door shut and a car start. He stayed in his room and waited for the bones in his nose to reset. _

Damon couldn't regret the kiss but to be caught like that – how absolutely mortifying. A part of him would always feel like that young boy Giuseppe used to chastise.

He was pretty sure the whole incident would have scared Bonnie off. But he had already started forming a strategy to force her to see him.

In her haste to get Klaus out of there, she'd left her phone behind. And well, Damon wasn't above a little coercion and blackmail to get his way. He'd send everyone in her phone book lewd and offensive texts until she agreed to meet him.

But three days later, her car was parked outside the boarding house and he felt uncharacteristically warm and glad at the thought of seeing Bonnie.

He wasn't a fool. He and Bonnie could never enjoy a kiss like that and have it mean nothing. Damon might not know yet _what_ it meant. But it meant _something_.

He entered the boarding house and was a little less pleased when he didn't immediately find Bonnie. There were two nearly empty coffee cups on the table, stone cold. She had been at the house a while then. And she was with his brother.

Damon focused, trying to listen for some sound that would tell him where in the house they were.

"I decided, right?" he heard Bonnie.

"That doesn't mean it wasn't hard," Stefan responded, his voice sickeningly soft, comforting.

He followed the sound of their voices to the billiard room. There was a _clack!_ as either Bonnie or Stefan successfully sunk one of the balls into the pocket. He had every intention of breaking up this little buddy fest, but what Stefan said next stopped Damon in his tracks.

"There are any number of reasons why I left my brother behind. Over the years," Stefan cleared his throat nervously, "I've told myself dozens. All of them plausible; all convincing." There was a pause. "In the end," he continued, "the truth is a lot simpler," his voice was uncharacteristically hoarse.

"I...I was ashamed."

Damon tensed. Bonnie made a noise in her throat – of surprise, of compassion, of understanding – and this seemed to give Stefan the courage to keep talking.

"Finding out that there's something dark in your heart...it's _excruciating._ The shock will burn off, eventually the anger fades too. But you never forget what it's like to be putting on a show. Wishing, all the time, that somebody, anybody, will say, 'Is something the matter?' And at the same time praying that nobody does, because you have so much to hide."

He felt the knot in his belly tighten. Stefan sounded so heavy, so aching.

"Do you think you'll ever be able to make up for the things you did?" Bonnie asked, very softly.

His brother didn't answer right away.

"No I don't," he said finally. "Whatever the circumstances, it doesn't change the fact that those people are dead. And I will never get their blood off my hands," he paused. "But standing here, talking with you, reminds me that that doesn't mean I shouldn't try; that _you_ shouldn't try."

He heard Bonnie sigh.

"Klaus has been pushing me to use my abilities," she said. "He thinks that I should embrace my _whole_ nature."

"But you're afraid you won't be able to control it."

She paused for a moment, to catch her breath. Then she replied, her voice almost brittle.

"When I killed that vampire, I felt..._powerful_. I saw the fear in his eyes, and I liked it. Enjoyed it even. I couldn't deny any more what I am."

"And what's that?" Stefan asked gently.

"A good predator," her tone was chilly and disturbing.

"Bonnie..."

"No, Stefan," she said roughly, "The same blood runs through my veins...the same _weakness_."

"You're nothing like Mikael or Henrik," his brother spoke calmly. "Bonnie, you came to me, to try to understand how not to harm people. And that's a far more important part of who you are, than the one that scares you."

There was a stretch of silence and they seemed to resume their game. Damon could hear Bonnie's breathing. Then finally, she spoke in a conclusive voice, "Fine. I'll concede defeat, just this once. You are a superior pool player, Stefan Salvatore."

Since it seemed like Bonnie was getting ready to leave, Damon quickly flashed downstairs and hid in the little alcove that led to the library. From this vantage point, he'd be able to observe them without being spotted.

Two or three minutes later, his brother and Bonnie were making their way downstairs. He heard her before he saw her.

"Yes, I recognize Shelley. Don't look so surprised," she snapped lightly. "I'm not some clichéd, emo loner from a teen movie, who broods over poetry and believes herself too deep to be understood by mere mortals. But I can read. And I pay attention in English class. And I hate Percy Shelley by the way. All that poor-victimized-me crap makes me want to hurl."

A ghost of a smile crossed Damon's lips. Bonnie was really getting into her rant. He could just picture the faint flush to her cheeks, her eyes blazing, looking impossibly _green_.

Distracted by thoughts of his little witch, Damon missed his brother's response but they were both smiling when they finally entered the front room.

"Well, I guess, since you're laughing, you aren't a big Shelley fan either," Bonnie murmured dryly.

His brother actually chuckled. There was a strange twisting in his gut when Bonnie hugged Stefan. Damon had to fight the urge to jump out and physically snatch her away from him.

She thanked him warmly and Stefan walked her to the door. But not before he returned her phone. Damn it.

"I was wondering where I'd lost this," Bonnie smiled at him, much to Damon's annoyance. However, he felt a rush of pleasure at her next words.

"I wanted to call him, but...could you tell Damon I came by?"

"Sure," his brother agreed. "You should get going. Klaus seems like a tough taskmaster."

Bonnie rolled her eyes and the corner of her mouth quirked, "You have no idea."

Then she was gone. He heard her get into her car and drive off. Stefan was still facing the front door.

"You can stop hiding now, Damon."

_Ok, that's just sad_, the elder Salvatore thought. At his age, a vampire should really have better stealth moves than that. Still, Damon's mind worked quickly to salvage the slightly awkward situation he found himself in.

He strolled casually out of the alcove, the picture of cool indifference.

"Why would I need to hide? It's my house, isn't it?"

Stefan merely drew his eyebrows together. He wasn't buying it. Time to change tactics.

"You and Judgey looked pretty cosy," he frowned deeply and narrowed his eyes at his brother. "What's going on?"

Put Stefan on the defensive. Definitely the best strategy to deflect attention away from the fact he'd been crouching in the corner like a creeper.

Stefan's mouth twisted up strangely and Damon realized the bastard was trying not to laugh at him!

"Nothing," he said finally, "just hanging out. Bonnie said to let you know she came by," a pause. "But you already knew that."

"Ass," Damon growled, all attempts at any further pretence abandoned. Stefan gave an elegant shrug and looked covertly pleased with himself. But then something thoughtful entered his gaze.

"When did you get here?"

Damon smirked inwardly. "Just now," he answered. "Why?"

"No reason."

Stefan seemed ready to end the conversation. And Damon knew to leave well enough alone, don't look a gift horse in the mouth and all that. But instead of letting Stefan walk away, he blurted out.

"I heard you before. With Bonnie, in the billiard room."

His brother froze.

"Was it true?"

There was a long stretch of silence. He shifted on his feet, suddenly less sure of this line of inquiry. "All this time...you never told me that before."

"And if I had?" his brother's voice grew bitterly sarcastic. "You'd have been a bit more _civil_?"

Damon's spine stiffened indignantly. "I don't know."

The silence was thick between them. After a tense moment, Stefan finally turned to face him.

"I know that, over the years, you've struggled with your own demons. And you can relate to a sense of guilt," each word resisted being spoken. "But you can't relate to a profound sense of shame." Stefan's face was almost twisted in his struggle to control his rising emotions.

"It's a form of torture, remembering my old life. And there is nothing you can do to me that I haven't already done to myself."

* * *

Klaus's training had finally started to feel less like a beating and more like a lesson.

It was a good thing she was a fast healer. That and a few basic healing potions helped mend any broken bones. She was left with a few bruises that could either be covered up or were fairly easy to explain away with her new cover hobby: kickboxing.

After the vampire's attack, her uncle had told her, in no uncertain terms, that she would meet him in Mystic Woods, at seven the next morning to begin training.

"_And don't even think about not showing up_," he'd threatened. _"I will find you and just drag you out there by your hair if I have to."_

Normally, Bonnie wouldn't have put up with such high-handedness. But the night's events had been a wake-up call. She could no longer afford to be so passive about her situation and wait until the next threat arrived.

"_I will teach you my methods,"_ Klaus had said to her that first day. _"We will train every morning, before your classes during the week, and in the afternoon on weekends. It will not be easy," _he'd warned her. _"I expect your commitment to be as great as my own. And I will not coddle you, Bonnie."_

That was an understatement.

Klaus didn't care if she was exhausted after studying all night, or if she'd sprained her ankle during Cheer practise.

"_None of that will matter to your opponent in a real fight,"_ he said. _"Either you spar to win or you don't spar at all." _

When he hit her, he would tell her why and what she should have done to block his strike. When her attack was ineffective, he would show her, painfully, exactly how she had messed up.

"_Just having power is not enough, but to know how to use it: strength, speed and precision."_

She thought she'd fare better when she got to use her magic.

Klaus was teaching her an additional technique to manipulate the energy flow in a person's central nervous system. She would use her magic to forcibly seal off energy centres in the body, paralysing and disabling her enemy. It required a ridiculous amount of magic control.

Her form was good, her control outstanding, but as far as Klaus was concerned, her attacks were still too weak and she wasn't fast enough.

"_But I'm using magic,"_ she had argued once. _"It doesn't need to be physically strong!"_

Klaus had merely lifted his eyebrows and proceeded to strike her in various places, using the lightest of touches. But the blow felt as powerful as if she'd been run over by a monster truck. She hadn't even seen him move. When she looked at him in astonishment he'd merely remarked, _"Not strong enough. You leave yourself open."_

Bonnie didn't know if she hated him for being a total dick during training, or love the fact that she was actually improving under his take-no-prisoners teaching style.

"_No fear, no hesitation. No sense of life or death. Focus only on your target."_

She could see up to eight hundred metres ahead now, and the headaches were almost non-existent. She didn't tire as easily after using extensive magic and with each training session, her recovery time after taking a particularly hard hit was getting quicker.

This was their fourth lesson.

Bonnie blocked a solid kick to her head with her arm, ignoring the sting of the blow. She countered with a sweep, but Klaus dodged out of the way. An elbow jammed into her throat but Bonnie saw her opening and made her favourite hand seal, forcibly sealing the energy centre in his arm. Unfortunately for her, even with only one functional arm, Klaus was still strong and insanely fast. A hand gripped Bonnie's arm and she was sent flying over the werewolf's shoulder and towards a nearby tree. She twisted her body and managed to land on her feet, eyes crimson and flecked with gold. Klaus watched her with a feral grin and prepared to attack again. Suddenly the werewolf was thrown backwards, while Bonnie leaned heavily against the tree.

He skidded back on his heels a few metres, before finally coming to a stop. His amber eyes were fixed on his niece.

"Not bad. Fake an opening so that when I attack, you use it to your advantage and attack me instead. Clever."

Clutching her chest, Bonnie wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth. "But it comes with consequences," she was wheezing slightly.

"Yes, you let your guard down for a fraction of a second, which allowed me to make my move, although it wasn't as effective as it might have been."

Her ribs begged to differ. She pushed away from the tree, ignoring the way her muscles screamed in protest, and walked forward until she and Klaus stood toe to toe.

"I can go a few more rounds," she said.

"Actually," Klaus checked his watch, "you can't."

Bonnie frowned. "I've taken harder hits than this. You've never gone easy on me before."

"And I don't intend to start now. But that's not why we can't continue," he glanced at his watch again. "It's five thirty."

"Is that supposed to mean something?"

"Well, I overheard you making plans with a friend last night. Dinner. Six o'clock. With Miss Forbes, if my memory serves."

"Oh crap!" Bonnie groaned. "I can't believe I forgot _again._"

"Fortunately, I remembered. And you've still got half an hour. I'll drive you in to town. The townhouse is closer to Mystic Grille. You can clean up there and I had Sheila pack in a change of clothes for you," Klaus said easily.

"Are you serious?" she gazed at him in awe and gratitude. He'd thought of everything.

"Your chariot awaits, Miss Bennett," his eyes flickered with dry amusement.

Bonnie restored the flow of energy to his left arm and they walked towards her car in comfortable silence, both a little bruised and battered. Then he added,

"You did well today, Bonnie."

She smiled at that, not even minding the pain of her fractured ribs. It felt like she'd turned a corner. And even though she was still miles from the summit and the climb was only getting steeper, she was gearing up for an exciting ride.

* * *

"She's late," Caroline huffed. Her blonde curls bounced indignantly.

"It's just gone five past, Care," Elena tried to placate her friend. "Give her a few more minutes."

Across from the two girls, Matt sat with a scowl on his handsome features.

"I can't believe you two dragged me into this."

"You're Bonnie's best friend," the cheerleader argued.

"Then you should listen to me when I tell you, this is a bad idea."

"I'm not going to apologise for wanting to make sure my friend's okay," Elena said stubbornly. "We know nothing about Klaus. And Damon...he's dangerous."

Matt looked at the brunette, amused. "Really Elena? You don't see the irony here?"

"Shush!" Caroline scolded them. "She's coming."

Bonnie had just entered the Grille and was making her way towards the three in the booth.

"Matt?" her voice reflected surprise as she dropped into the seat next to him. "I didn't know you were gonna be here too."

"It wasn't by choice. Oww!" Matt glared at the blonde who had just landed a sharp kick to his shin.

"What's going on?" Bonnie asked. She looked a little wary now.

"We asked Matt to be here," Caroline spoke up. "I was looking for you at your place the other day. Your Grams said you were out with Klaus, _again_," she added half to herself. "When she told me I just..." she and Elena exchanged looks.

"Just what?"

"Come on, Bon," Caroline stopped hedging. "The way you've fallen out of touch these last couple of weeks; how you've made and broken so many plans with us."

"We're worried about you, Bonnie," Elena said, her eyes wide and sincere.

Bonnie gave a nervous laugh. "Is...Is this some kind of intervention?"

The two girls fell silent. Matt shook his head.

"Are you kidding me?" her voice was sharper now.

"Bonnie-"

"No Elena," Bonnie rounded on the brunette. "You and Stefan were practically joined at the hip! You were always ditching me to go off with him and I never accused _you_ of having something _wrong_ with you. And how many times did _you_," she turned to Caroline now, "blow me off to hang-out with Tyler, when you were supposed to help me hand out flyers for the festival? Or when we were meant to go shopping or study for history! But did I ever, once, give you a hard time?"

"That was different," Caroline argued. She ran her hands through her blonde waves. "I was by the counsellor's office yesterday, handing in my college application. I saw next to your name it said 'undecided'."

"And?"

"_And?_" Caroline looked incredulous. "Bonnie, ever since junior year we've talked about going to Whitmore. The three of us. And now, you're _'undecided'_. You're spending all your time with Klaus, and _Damon_," her mouth curled up in a sneer, "is always hovering, hanging around you like a bad smell."

"You just seem a little lost," Elena said. "Are you involved with Klaus? Because it would explain a lot."

Bonnie snapped her mouth shut. "You know what; I've lost my appetite. I have to go."

"Bonnie, listen—"

"No, you need to listen," she objected, trying to keep her voice level. They were in a public place and she didn't want to cause a scene.

"There have been some changes in my life," she admitted. "But I am _not_ lost. Quite the opposite. I'm finally finding my way," Matt gave her a small smile. "Whether that works for the two of you, is irrelevant. I am where I am, and this is how I need to be." She released a harsh breath. "You're my friends. But I do not have to explain myself to you. And _if_ I decided to, then that's my choice. Not your right."

Bonnie didn't wait for them to reply. She turned on her heel and left.

"Well," Matt leaned back in his seat, "that was nicely handled."

Elena blushed and Caroline glared.

They never noticed the blue-eyed vampire – who'd been sitting at the end of the bar since before Bonnie arrived – quietly slip out of the restaurant after her.

* * *

Bonnie was practically shaking with indignation as she walked to her car.

She knew there were things about her life her friends had never been able to fully understand. Being a witch - to them - meant casting a few fancy spells, and pulling them all out of the fire when necessary. But what they didn't realize was, having magic, gave her a view of life that they would never see. The fact that they thought they were somehow capable of knowing what was best for her, was baffling, unnerving and infuriating.

A part of her felt a little mean thinking about her friends in such a way. They probably meant well, but it was hard to remember that in the face of such blatant hypocrisy. In the last year, she'd felt like less and less of a priority to her friends. But she'd tried hard not to hold it against them. She'd understood that they were meeting new people, exploring new things. And she wouldn't begrudge them that. Apparently, they couldn't do the same for her. Oh no. She tried something different and it was cause to alert the National Guard. So what if she didn't want to go to Whitmore anymore? Or that she and Damon had managed to reach their own understanding? She wasn't allowed to change?

"Damn it," she jiggled the key in the lock when it got stuck.

There was a rush of air. Her hair whipped at her face and Goosebumps broke out on her skin. Bonnie didn't even blink.

"Hello, Damon."

The blue-eyed vampire was standing behind her. He was staring at her intently. Bonnie swallowed hard. He looked like he was rehearsing a large amount of information in his mind. Took a step closer to her.

"You seem to be having some night," She blew out an exasperated breath. "That good, huh?"

Bonnie sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "It was supposed to be dinner. But it was really an ambush. According to my friends, I'm all mixed up and hanging around with the wrong crowd," her eyes darted over at him, irony flickering in their emerald depths. Damon flashed his usual, slightly mocking smile.

"People will always have an opinion, Bonnie. You can't pay attention to the white noise."

He took another step closer to her.

"I haven't seen you for a few days. You were at the boarding house this morning. Stefan said I just missed you."

"Yeah," she inhaled sharply. Felt momentarily dizzy, like all the blood had drained out of her brain. "Klaus has been keeping me busy with training. He can't guard me all the time and he thinks it best I don't depend on others."

"That might be the one thing that overgrown hamster and I agree on."

Bonnie frowned. She knew the two men held an intense dislike for each other - not without provocation on either side. But Klaus was still her uncle. And Damon was her...she wasn't sure exactly what he was to her at the moment; waves of heat and tenderness washed over her at the memory of the kiss. She blinked and tried to think clearly enough to remember her part of the conversation. "Maybe it's best if we don't talk about my uncle."

Damon shrugged carelessly. He looked so intense that she actually took a step backward. Her back was pressed up against the car door. Bonnie twisted her fingers together but this made her drop her keys.

"I should get those," she murmured.

Even in the darkness he could see her blush. Standing this close to each other, Bonnie had to lean back to look up at him; her back arching slightly, accentuating her breasts; her chin lifting as if to offer him her lips.

He didn't take them.

Why was everything so much more complicated where she was concerned? It was quite frustrating because Damon usually knew what to do when it came to getting something he wanted. Someone he wanted. Bonnie was the exception. He was embarrassed to admit that he had no idea how to approach her on this subject. He didn't know what to do when it came to her.

"Ah..." Bonnie looked nervous, "Damon...your hand..."

He blinked. Looked at his hand which was now holding on to her wrist, thumb moving over smooth skin. When the hell had that happened?

"Sorry," he said, not sounding sorry at all. There was a long pause.

"Um...you're still holding my wrist, Damon."

Instead of releasing his grip, his hand tightened and he tugged her towards him. She hit his body with a light 'oof' of sound; her hands flat on his chest, her pelvis tilting into his.

"Is that such a bad thing?" he found himself asking, dipping his head to breathe in her fragrance. His free hand was moving up and down her arm slowly.

"I..."

Whatever she might have said was lost to the chime of a tinny cell phone. Damon practically growled as he stepped back and reluctantly released Bonnie.

"Tyler, hey," she greeted when she finally managed to answer the offending object. She turned her body a little away from him, and Damon felt a flare of heat, of possessiveness, knowing she was talking to another male. The line of her shoulders tensed. "Really?" A pause while the Lockwood boy said something. "No, no, that's fine. I'll meet you and Klaus over there right now. I'll bring Damon with me."

And that did a lot to soothe his male pride.

"Ok," Bonnie idly twirled a lock of her hair. "I'll see you in a few," she ended the call and finally turned back to face him.

Azure eyes stared at her with a look so deep and fond that, for a minute, Bonnie couldn't breathe while she looked at him. She knew she was treading on _very _dangerous ground but there honestly wasn't very much she could do about it. Not while this...this _thing_ between her and Damon was suddenly out of control.

Bonnie cleared her throat. Forced herself to shake off what she could of these _feelings_.

"Tyler thinks he's found a new lead on the moonstone," she said. Damon was pleased to hear the slightly breathless quality to her voice. "We have to meet him and Klaus at the Lockwood mansion."

A sigh escaped. Somebody up there really didn't like him.

"Alright," he agreed. "But we take my car."

They started in the direction of the Camaro. Damon, seized by a sudden surge of boldness, reached to take Bonnie's hand. Really, he was reaching a point now where he was beginning not to care. It wasn't like he could control himself anyway.

But something warm bloomed in his chest when he felt her interlock their fingers. Damon wisely said nothing. Just made sure he didn't let go.

* * *

"The riddle Mason left was a Bocardo syllogism. We were focusing on the syllogism," Klaus explained, "we should have been looking at the word: _Bocardo_. That's the key."

"You remember me telling you that my uncle wrote a paper?" Tyler said.

"On Offa Bocardo, right," Bonnie nodded. "He was the Anglo-Saxon King of Mercia."

"What's that got to do with the moonstone?" Damon chimed in, impatience showing on his features.

"I found my uncle's monograph. The one he wrote when he was studying at Edinburgh," Tyler declared proudly. "He talks about Bocardo and the site of his palace – which happens to be in the city of Edinburgh - only now, it's called _Somerset_ House."

"Somerset?" Bonnie froze. Her mind started to focus on every detail of the situation, putting the pieces together.

"As in _Nelia Somerset_?_"_

"How can you be sure?" Damon cut in. "Somerset isn't exactly a rare name."

"Take a look at these," Tyler handed the vampire what looked like a set of photos, which had been blown up. "I found them with my uncle's things. They're photos of the original illustrated cover of _The Bloody Countess_. I didn't think anything of it at the time, until Klaus spoke about the riddle being a Bocardo syllogism. See that picture in the window, the one in the roof of the mansion?"

"It looks like a man, wearing some kind of medal," Damon frowned.

"That's a picture of Offa Bocardo," Klaus said. "And the medal he's holding is actually—"

"The seal of Vigil," Damon realized. If he looked closely he could make out the image of a two-headed eagle.

"As for Nelia _H.K._ Somerset," Klaus continued, "there's no such person. The name is an anagram. Rearrange the letters and you get ESTHER MIKAELSON."

"That's why I could never find any record of her before 1756!" Bonnie realized. She shook her head. "I can't believe I didn't see it before."

"So the bloody countess is actually Esther?" Damon surmised.

"Exactly," Tyler nodded excitedly. "The moonstone is something the Templar Knights have been guarding for centuries; ever since 1756. Klaus and I think that Joseph Bell was also a knight. He discovered the location of the moonstone and then he left clues that only other Templar Knights would be able to interpret."

"Like the picture of Offa in the window; changing Esther's name," Bonnie murmured. "Mason pieced it together. He found the drop. But before he could do anything, Mikael got to him." She squeezed her friend's shoulder in sympathy and understanding.

"My uncle gave his life to protect these secrets," Tyler said. "The least I can do is finish what he started."

"Then what's our next move?" Damon looked round at all three people in the room.

Klaus rose from his seat.

"We're going to Scotland."

"We?" Bonnie balked.

"The stone was spelled by Marie Belle Bennett," the werewolf explained. "There's a possibility we'll need a Bennett witch to retrieve it."

"But I can't just up and go to Scotland!" she protested.

"Yeah, no way my dad let's me take a trip this close to graduation," Tyler added.

"And I don't exactly have cash for an international air ticket, just lying around."

Klaus lifted his eyebrows. "I can pay your way, Bonnie. It's no problem."

"Klaus, I'm not letting you shell out $800 for me."

"You know I have absolutely no interest in money?"

"It doesn't matter. It's too much," She lifted her chin stubbornly. "I wouldn't feel right, letting you pay for me like that. And I know Grams wouldn't allow it."

The werewolf looked like he would object, argue some more. But he stopped, looked thoughtful. "Is a lack of sufficient funds your only objection to taking this trip?"" he asked in a mild tone.

Bonnie paused. She had school, college applications. Graduation was less than a month away. But she also couldn't deny that ripple of excitement, at the thought of travelling, of having an adventure, and solving this mystery once and for all.

"Yes," she said finally.

"Then I have a solution," he spoke confidently. "It's settled. We leave in three days," Klaus smiled. He looked pleased. Looked knowing. "There's just one quick stop we have to make on the way."

**TBC**

* * *

**AN 2: **Can anyone guess what Klaus's solution is? I'll give you a hint: it's to do with Elijah. See what you make of that.

I'm not sure how I did with this chapter. There's a lot going on, a lot of transitions and tonal shifts. I hope the scene changes weren't too clumsy.

Next chapter: Bamon goes international! Thanks for reading. :)


	24. An Overture To Death

**Author's note:**  
Hi all! Thank you for your patience and generosity. I'm so sorry for the unreasonably long break between updates. At last though, I managed to get this chapter out!

Well done to _**Cici G**_**,** _**nekittam**_**,** _**NonTimetisMessor**_and_**WearRedTonight**_ for guessing correctly about Klaus's solution!

I want to thank everyone for the unbelievable response to this story. It is such a pleasure to write this and I am thrilled that you are enjoying reading it. Thank you for sticking with me.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything except my OCs. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

**20**

**AN OVERTURE TO DEATH**

Bonnie stumbled sleepily to the car. She slipped into the backseat while Sheila sat up front with Klaus.

It had just gone six o'clock when they reached Richmond. Some sort of stingy, sleety rain was falling. It left the sooty brick of the entirely acceptable Victorian houses almost charcoal-coloured. Klaus turned off the main road, cursing when a taxi passed a little too close to the front of their car. Then they were away. Off down Lupine Street to see, soon appearing ahead of them, a three-storey, cream and brown-brick terraced house, at the end of Lupine Crescent.

Klaus found a parking space a mere hundred metres from the house. They strode quickly along the pavement, heads tucked down against the rain. A wind had freshened and it had grown decidedly colder.

She was relieved when the front door swung open and Bonnie glimpsed a familiar fall of long, dark hair.

"Aya!"

"It's good to see you again, Bonnie," the female werewolf hugged the younger girl.

She led them to a large sitting room. A low table had been set with a vase of white orchids. There was an assortment of pastries, a carafe of coffee and a pot of tea.

Like the mansion Klaus had "abducted" Bonnie to, this house was severely elegant although the effect was lighter and more decorative.

"Please, make yourself at home," Aya gestured to the breakfast table. "I'll just let James know you're here."

Ten minutes later Bonnie was introduced to James Dagliesh, leader of the Brotherhood of the Three Graces. He led them into a large study and proceeded to explain exactly why Klaus had brought her here.

Bonnie blinked. Hearing the words but not fully understanding them. Her gaze darted between her grandmother - who wore a similar expression of shock - and Klaus; a hint of a smile in his eyes.

"But..." her mouth opened and closed, as she struggled for words, "this...this can't be right."

Klaus shook his head at her. "Do you think Elijah would not take every measure to make sure you were looked after? I was going to make it official after your graduation. But you _are _of age, and James," he nodded at the silver-haired werewolf, "agreed that now is as good a time as any."

"As executor of his estate," James spoke up, "Elijah trusted me to look after your inheritance, until you turned eighteen a few months ago. Your father signed all his property and fortune to you. You are quite the heiress."

"It's such a big responsibility. I wouldn't know where to-" she broke off.

"You have me and your grandmother," Klaus said easily, "and James will always be here to explain and help you understand your financial affairs and responsibilities."

"It would be my pleasure, Miss Bonnie," James bowed slightly. "Elijah was a very good friend to me. There is also this."

He handed her a large, flat box, ornately carved. It was beautiful. Bonnie unfastened the catch and opened it. She gasped.

The box was not a box at all but some sort of album. And it contained just one picture, a portrait of her mother and father.

Abby was laughing in the photo. Elijah gazed out of the picture at her, dark eyes smiling, and an expression that spoke of strength and determination.

At the bottom of the box was a sealed envelope, addressed to Bonnie, in what she now recognised as her father's elegant scrawl.

"You may wish to read that in private," James suggested.

Bonnie gave a small smile, grateful for the werewolf's gentle concern. He winked at her and then turned to speak to Klaus. She had a hard time following what happened next; something about travel documents. And they were using someone's private plane.

Her head was spinning, a dizzying jumble of emotions. She was vaguely aware of thanking James and Aya, before being led back to the car.

On the drive to the local airstrip, Sheila sat in the back of the land rover with Bonnie. She took her granddaughter's hand. "How are you?"

"Fine," Bonnie lied, trying desperately to keep her hand from shaking.

Grams' brow lowered. "Baby, you're trembling."

The mild tone and softness in her grandmother's eyes comforted Bonnie despite herself. She shook her head and lowered her lashes, feeling silly. "I don't know. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be feeling right now."

"I think that's about right."

After a long stretch of silence, she said, "He knew. Elijah knew that he was going to die," Bonnie's voice broke on the last word. "How could he just..." she trailed off.

"He had a reason," Bonnie lifted her gaze to her grandmother. "Something that he cared about," Sheila's eyes met and held hers. "Something that was more important than anything."

They passed the rest of the drive in silence. When they arrived at the airstrip, Damon was waiting for them. He looked testy. Bonnie knew he hadn't liked being left out of the loop, as he saw it. But Klaus had been adamant: this was family business. The vampire would have to be happy joining them on the flight afterwards. No arguments.

Thankfully, he refrained from making any snide remarks and even helped her and Grams with their luggage. Once they were in the air, Klaus and Damon took turns glaring at each other and trying to catch the other at it. Grams caught up on some marking and then started reading her romance novel. At one point, Damon, who had ended up sitting next to the elder Bennett, unconsciously scanned the page over her shoulder. His eyes widened as Georgette's womanhood was flowing copiously. Sheila smacked him upside the head when he read out loud. "Shush!" she'd demanded softly. "You can borrow it later and read the whole thing."

There were few occasions when Damon Salvatore had been rendered speechless.

The rest of the flight was uneventful. Bonnie had slipped her ear phones in and feigned sleep. The only time she really spoke to the others was during the flight meal. Damon kept shooting her curious looks, but Klaus and Grams understood her need for space. Later on she must have actually fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew, Damon was waking her; his face very close and very handsome as he leaned over her.

"Bonnie," he said softly. "We're in Scotland."

* * *

Somerset House was not a house at all.  
The half ruined castle stood on the northern face of Offa's Seat; a towering grey-green stony hill the poets called "a mountain in virtue."

Having arrived quite late the previous night, a tired Bonnie had paid no attention to the scenery during the car ride to Liam's house. But she did now.

"I never thought it would be like this," she murmured as they followed a twisting pathway to the lower corrie. "Its way more exciting and beautiful than anything I'd imagined." The Scotsman smiled at her.

"If you had been staying until Sunday, I could have taken you to Skye, to see the Black Cuillin. You must visit again, _mo caileag dubh_," Damon scowled at the endearment, "and if you like, I shall take you climbing to the very top of Blaven."

Bonnie couldn't conceal her delight at this invitation, much to the vampire's annoyance.

Liam Gordon was their host and guide in Edinburgh. The quiet, soft-spoken young man was descendant of a long line of druids. He knew a lot about the old magic and had taken a liking to Bonnie.

Damon glowered as they talked together. Liam was both informed and witty. He spoke of the druids of the Misty Isles, told Bonnie details about various military confrontations at Offa's Seat, or pointed out interesting features of the landscape.

He wasn't flirting with her and Damon didn't think for a minute that Bonnie would do anything. It just bothered him to see her enjoy another man's company the way she sometimes enjoyed his.

They hiked up the south face of Offa's Seat to the col, where they stopped for a breather. The sky was blue and cloudless, the sunshine warm and the breeze off the sea was brisk and fresh. Liam passed out some food and it was while eating lunch, at the top of Pinnacle Ridge, that Bonnie had her first glimpse of Somerset House. She could see the castle with its round turrets standing on its bold headland, though from this height the craggy cliff looked a mere rock, covered with tangle.

"A Norse princess lived there," said Liam. "It's said she used to close the strait by stretching a great chain across it, and then demand harbour dues from the ships that wanted to dock. I'll show you the marks where they say the chain was fastened."

"Why did they name a castle, Somerset House?" Bonnie wondered curiously.

"After the Lord Chancellor at the time. They had intended it to house the Scottish Parliament. At the foot of Offa's Seat, guarding the shores of Edinburgh, it would be a powerful symbol of Scotland's ongoing fight for independence from the English Crown. But it wasn't very practical."

When they began their descent down the northern slope, Damon started to enjoy himself. Liam opened his rucksack and pulled out a selection of leather gloves.

"That rock is called gabbro," he pointed to the dark scramble of boulders below. "It's what makes climbing Offa's Seat so safe. You can hardly slip on it, it's so rough. But without gloves, your fingers will be nearly worn away!"

But Damon and Bonnie didn't need gloves. Vampires had superior balance and they skipped together merrily from one point of rock to the next like a pair of mountain goats. They reached the stony corrie at last, grinning at each other in silly delight while they waited for the others.

It was only when Klaus looked at them, one eyebrow lifted suspiciously, that Bonnie realized she and Damon were holding hands. She rolled her eyes at her uncle. Liam was still helping Sheila down the rocky slope. Her grams kept sitting down at intervals and, as she called down to them, it wasn't exactly like landing on a feather bed.

They joined the others finally, Sheila looking a little worse for wear. Her bootlace had come undone and Liam bent to tie it for her.

"If I sit down, I certainly won't get up again," Grams gave a wry smile.

"You've climbed far today, Miss Sheila," Liam spoke kindly. He looked towards the dark ruins. "We'll make camp in the castle ward tonight. The sun is already beginning to go down. It will be better to begin our search tomorrow."

Everyone agreed with the sense of this plan and the small party threaded their way down the castle road, through the ruined gatehouse and into the castle ward. They spent the next half hour organising their camp. Liam unzipped his rucksack again and laid out a selection of silver metal items. His hands were brisk and efficient, fixing together what turned out to be a small camping stove.

"The walls of this building are very thick," said the Scotsman, "and the flue is well-sealed, so it shouldn't be any trouble getting the fire up to temperature – and without filling the solar above with smoke."

They would sleep in the solar. Damon was helping Klaus set up one of the bastions on the southern wall as a kind of war room – the werewolf and vampire were paranoid like that. But Grams agreed it wouldn't hurt to be cautious, so she and Bonnie were tasked with putting up protective wards. There was a sudden _crack!_ of lightning, startling Liam and causing Damon and Klaus to come rushing back into the Great Hall.

"What the hell was that?" the vampire stood ready for a fight.

"I won't have rats in our camp site," Sheila grumbled. "Those things are diseased!"

The men exchanged bemused glances and then returned to their work. Liam soon had the stove going and a large pot on it.

"Rabbit stew," he announced, tipping the meat and fragrant broth into bowls.

What else did he have in that rucksack? Bonnie marvelled. His provisions had been amazingly sensible and complete. The others joined them and they ate dinner in companionable silence. Needing to keep up appearances, Damon accepted his bowl of food.

It tasted good. Of course. The guy's a regular Jamie Oliver; the vampire couldn't stop the uncharitable thought. The wall next to him hummed a little and started glowing.

"Uh...Bonnie? Is it supposed to be doing that?"

"Just whack it," she said, through a mouthful of stew.

Damon did as she suggested and the glowing stopped. Sheila glared unhappily at the offending wall.

"Something about these stones just doesn't like the wards," she murmured.

"Will they last the night?" Klaus's brow furrowed in concern.

"I'll do another spell, for good measure," Sheila hurried over to the stones, tracing an invisible line that only she could see.

It was fully dark now and they only had the light of their flashlights to see. Bonnie helped her grams adjust the wards while Liam and Klaus tidied up around the camping stove.

Damon stood a little to the side, silently watching Bonnie. Her gaze suddenly became very sharp and intense as she focused her magic, and he admired the bright gold flash of her eyes. Sheila Bennett looked up then and spied him. One dark eyebrow raised and Damon tried not to show how uncomfortable he felt, caught blatantly ogling the woman's granddaughter.

It must be a rare Bennett gift to be able to make him feel something close to shame.

They all retired to bed soon after that, laying out their sleeping bags in the solar. More tired than she thought after an eventful day, Bonnie soon fell asleep.

When she woke up a few hours later it was still dark. She was boiling. Her core body temperature always seemed to run several degrees higher than the average person. A result of her magic, Grams once told her. But this was unbearable. She felt as though she had been sleeping next to a furnace. Bonnie wriggled out of her sleeping bag with a sigh and froze. Confusion marred her pretty features.

She did it once more, letting out an exaggerated sigh and watched as her breath puffed out like smoke against the suddenly frigid air.

A cold spot.

There was a sudden prickling sensation at the base of her neck and Bonnie felt her eyes drawn over towards the castle keep.

_God, what is that? _And for a moment she was completely overcome by fear.

A creature striding across the castle ward had paused, turning to look her directly in the eye. Then it continued on its journey, disappearing through a gap in the wall. For a moment, Bonnie continued to watch the empty space. Then she shot to her feet. Careful not to wake the others, she grabbed a flashlight and set off in the same direction as the strange figure.

In the darkness of the castle keep, Bonnie's senses were straining to their limits as she followed the path the creature had taken. She could hear the water dripping from the cistern in the roof; rats running under the floorboards beneath her; and now she could hear footsteps coming from inside the castle wall.

Bonnie ran her hand down the stone moulding and pulled on the concealed handle. She was astonished when that section of the wall swung towards her. A secret door.

Shining her torch into the doorway, she could make out what looked like a set of steps, penetrating deep into the gloomy depths.

Out of nowhere a hand snaked out, grabbing her wrist to yank her backwards.

"You know Bon-bon," a familiar voice drawled, "I'm not sure you've quite got the idea of this partnership," He crushed her against his chest and kept her there with all his vampire strength.

"And you've no idea of the concept of personal space," she whispered harshly. "If you don't want to find your balls hanging from your ears, Damon, I suggest you let go of me."

But, far from releasing her, Damon spun her around and pinned her against the wall so that she was trapped beneath him, held down by the weight of his body.

"Why are you skulking around in the middle of the night?" he leaned closer; his face was only inches away from hers.

"I saw someone...something...watching me," she struggled to free herself.

"So naturally you thought it would be a good idea to follow it to its creepy lair."

Her eyebrow arched. Green eyes shone with derision.

"You scared?"

She knew she was baiting him. And she knew he knew. Fingers brushed along her chin and lifted her head so they were staring into each other's eyes. Bonnie's heart began to pound in her chest and her stomach clenched.

"No," tilting his head she could feel his lips brush along her ear, "I happen to be enjoying myself." She moulded perfectly against him and her light smell of jasmine was for some reason intoxicating. Ever since their kiss he found he was constantly looking for excuses to touch her. It was disorienting.

Bonnie tried to push back but the hand that had raised her chin was now around her waist. For all her struggling she was only pulled closer to him. Technically, she could force him to release her. She'd made a hobby out of giving Damon aneurysms. But she couldn't fathom holding that over him now, taking unfair advantage of the unequal power dynamic of this situation.

She felt his fingers slide through her hair and she tried not to whimper. If he's trying to seduce me, he's doing a really good job of it, Bonnie thought reluctantly. When she felt the affect their closeness was having on him, she gasped.

"Damon!" she cried outraged. But she couldn't help the tremor that went through her when his lips trailed all the way down her neck and then back up. She could feel him smirking.

"One of these days, Bon-bon," he murmured wistfully, "we_ really _need to talk about this."

He kissed her forehead; the tenderness of the gesture surprising her. Suddenly, the pressure on her body was gone. Damon stepped through the secret doorway leaving behind a very confused, very flushed Bonnie Bennett.

He descended the narrow staircase. From what Damon could tell, they were under the mountain. It was dank and the air close. He felt as if the entire weight of Somerset House was pressing on their heads. At last the staircase ended and he stepped out into a low, broad cave. Ribbons of coloured stone spilled from the ceiling to the floor, forming natural pillars and curtains of rock. Fireflies danced between the strange rock formations. The steps sloped gently down to a dark pool of water and at the opposite end of the cave, there was a small, grass island. He began striding towards the pool's edge-

The creature rose out of the water.

Damon felt his fangs drop, the dark veins on his face rippling; an instinctive response to either defend or destroy.

"You needn't think you have won, Damon," Bonnie came up behind him, her voice echoing around the cave with righteous indignation. "Oh!" she gasped, the reproach dying on her lips.

The strange being raised a branch-like hand and beckoned. His tall, spare figure was wrapped almost entirely in foliage; wet leaves gleaming. Two large, gold horns, like a ram, protruded from his head and wide, pale eyes fixed on her.

It beckoned again. Slowly extending a long, gnarled finger towards her. Damon snarled and immediately moved to put himself between the creature and Bonnie.

"It's okay," she looked back at the curious being.

_There are many forces in this world, Bonnie, besides good and evil,_ Grams had once told her. The strange, horned creature gazed at her patiently.

"You've been waiting for me." It wasn't a question.

It pointed, indicating that Bonnie should walk.

"Why?"

The creature pointed again, this time in the direction of the small island.

"Do you want to show me something?"

It nodded, offering a hand.

"Bonnie, don't," Damon shook his head. She glanced at him. He still wore his vampire face; black veins prominent against his milky skin; eyes burning red. Bonnie leaned up and lightly kissed the corner of his mouth. _We don't need to fear it,_ she seemed to say.

As she drew back, Damon followed. Their foreheads pressed together, prolonging the connection. Then she stepped away, turning to follow the creature. Hand-in-hand she and the strange being waded into the pool.

Damon watched tensely from the stairs, ready to intervene at the first sign of trouble. They were halfway to the island and only Bonnie's head was still visible above the water. Her strange companion helped her ashore and then released her hand.

"You want me to wait here?"

The creature bowed and when it raised its head, Bonnie thought she glimpsed the ghost of a smile in its unusual colourless eyes. It slipped its gnarled hand into a crevice in the grassy bank and withdrew a small object, which the being held out to her. Carefully, Bonnie unwrapped its cloth wrapping.

"Oh, god..."

Her strange companion watched her with sad eyes.

In the palm of her hand Bonnie held the smooth, pearlescent stone. For a long moment she simply stared at the moonstone. She sensed its power, could feel her own magic responding to it. Hear the blood rushing through her veins, every beat of her heart. Time slowed and her senses narrowed, drawn down to this single moment as the rest of the world faded away.

The images came fast.

_Winter. The young man beaten and broken. Blood seeping through the snow. The ocean glows red. They burn on the pyres. Devil. Monster. Demon. Beast. Darkness cannot drive out darkness._

A sharp pain pierced Bonnie's heart and she sank to her knees in despair. All asudden the scent of wood smoke, blood and heather wafted about her.

_The face of a woman appears. Below it swirls a diaphanous robe. The spectral face cries, "My sweetest daughter."  
_  
"_Bonnie!_"

_Damon? _But she can't find him.

_The woman's eyes grow moist._ "_Those bloody angels cost me dear enough. Take my hand daughter." _

"_Bonnie!_"

Darkness cannot drive out darkness.

_"Take my hand!" the spectral figure screams._

Only light can do that.

"_Help me!" _

Only light...

* * *

It was late morning.

Bonnie inhaled deeply. She was leaning up against something cold and hard – _someone_. Lazy fingertips dragged across her shoulder. Blinking a few times to gain focus, her mind worked rapidly to help her realize where she was and how she had gotten there. The movement of those fingers stopped.

"You're awake."

She looked up to see Damon staring down at her.

"What happened?"

She felt more than saw the shudder run through him. His features, however, were tense and annoyed.

"You're an idiot," he sneered; the harsh words at odds with the tender way he was still cradling her.

Bonnie narrowed her eyes. She wanted to tell him to piss off.

"How did I get back here?" she said instead, looking round at the solar. She could put Damon in his place later. Right now she needed to understand what had gone on.

"I carried you."

Damon swallowed. She watched the line of his throat work up and down. She waited. His fingers slid into her hair.

He still couldn't get the image out of his head.  
Bonnie, hunched over, choking, suffocating as she struggled against an invisible foe. Damon tried to get to her, but he was met with resistance. Invisible ropes were tugging at his limbs, restraining him; his legs felt like two clumsy blocks of cement. Her lips were turning blue. _No no no no no no_—

"_Bonnie!_"

But she was beyond his reach and she was dying. He was _watching_ her die. Something wet dripped down his cheek. When was the last time he had been affected by someone's death?

No.

She wasn't allowed to die. They had a deal. She was his partner and he'd be damned if she was going anywhere without him. She was his-

A faint silvery glow – he saw it out of the corner of his eye – grew into an aura, shimmering and sparkling, completely surrounding Bonnie, filling the cave until it became too bright to look at. He threw his arm up, trying to shield his eyes.

_Weorc untoworpenlic!_

The light faded.

"_Bonnie?"_

"Damon?" His emotionless face was scaring her. The hand in her hair slipped down to the curve of her shoulder. Damon tilted his head, avoiding her gaze.

"You read the stone," His voice was flat, "triggered some kind of witchy mind meld and almost killed yourself."

She winced. Bonnie sat up a little, curling into Damon a little more.

She remembered that.  
She could feel the burn of invisible fingers against her throat. But she broke the connection, was nearly blown back off her feet by the strength of it. Her vision was hazy from the lack of oxygen and the overuse of her magic. She was cold. The night was cold. But she had accomplished enough. Her sight darkened and she drifted away.

"You overdid it," Damon scolded her. "That..._creature_...brought you back across the water. Then I had to carry you back to the keep. You were pretty out of it." Something really strange crossed over his face.

Pulling the little witch into his arms, he moved at top speed towards the keep. Her brow was furrowed in a frown, but her body was still and stiff. When he finally stormed into the solar, the others were awake. Damon walked straight towards Liam and handed Bonnie over.

"She's hurt, fix it," he said. His eyes held a dark promise of what would happen if the Scotsman didn't.

Damon spent the next half hour explaining what had happened, his eyes straying to Bonnie's prone figure where Liam was attending to her.

"Miss Bonnie is stronger than you think," he assured them. "She'll be fine. A little magic hangover, that's all. I've given her something for the discomfort. She'll sleep it off."

Bonnie reached up for the hand that was on her shoulder. She threaded their fingers together.

"I was scared, Damon. I was so scared."

"You were an idiot."

Bonnie tried and failed to hide a smile at that. "Well I learned from the best," green eyes looked up at him. One eyebrow arched playfully.

"Shut up," he practically growled the words at her, "and go back to sleep." He avoided her gaze but made no move to leave her. If anything, he pulled her closer so she was resting more snugly against him and settled his arms around her waist.

"I'm fine now," her hand lightly touched his own, "and we're both okay. It's over."

* * *

Thick curtains had been drawn against the windows of the store. No person could see within. The room was lit solely by three flickering candles set within white skulls. They fumed with the incense of opium and mugwort.

If ever a malicious spirit lived on earth, Katherine thought, it would be in a hell hole such as this.

She bowed to Sybilla with uncharacteristic humility and accepted the large glass of Madeira wine the witch offered her. Mikael and Henrik arrived next. The latter declined the offer of a glass and sat as far away from Katherine as possible. Mikael pulled up a stool where he could watch everyone.

Sybilla smiled. "If Miss Petrova is ready?"

Katherine downed her wine in one gulp. "You're certain I'm safe?"

"It is not a binding ritual," the witch explained. "It only affects the living and you, my dear, are dead. Quite dead."

At length, the vampiress nodded, satisfied. She bit into her wrist; just enough to let a few drops of blood fall into the witch's scrying bowl.

Sybilla raised her hand.  
The shadows darkened. Suddenly, the bowl burst into flame. Blackened rose petals fell from the ceiling.

"It is done."

**TBC**

* * *

**AN 2:** '_Mo caileag dubh' _means '_my little black-haired girl_'. I'm taking massive liberties with the geography and history of Scotland. But I'm asking for a little creative license. No offense is meant.

Thanks for reading!


	25. Shadow, Burning Bright

**Author's note:** It's been a hundred years! I can't apologise enough for the long wait. But I've not forgotten nor abandoned this fic. Not even close. So I'll let you get back to the story, at last. And thank you all so much for sticking with me through it all.

* * *

21

**SHADOW BURNING BRIGHT**

**It was quite a nice hospital, thought Mr Fell.**  
He liked the drive to Whitmore. He liked the nuns puttering about. The sisters of Fell St Mary's made him feel that it was all _alright_. That, despite everything, there were, still, faint glimmers of civilization left in the barbaric slaughterhouse once known as humanity.

He discarded his wrinkled suit jacket, loosened his tie. If he ignored the rough scar along her neck – two years, but the flesh had never knit back together evenly and the skin still looked raised, inflamed and angry – he could pretend, for just a moment, she was only sleeping.

The doctors had prepared him. Brain activity was decreasing steadily. Mr. Fell shuffled closer and started telling her about his day: Jamison had finally given in and he'd acquired _The Richmond Post_ for Wildfell Publishers; his secretary, Adele, had had a baby boy; the council still hadn't found the bloodsucker responsible for that girl's death at the Grill a couple weeks' back.

"Liz puts all her faith in that jumped up little shit, Salvatore, for all the good it's done," Mr. Fell rubbed the back of his neck. "He's never delivered so much as a pot to piss in," his brow furrowed, "It might be time for a change in leadership."

The door opened and a nurse entered, on her nightly rounds. For his own comfort, Mr. Fell decided he'd go and have a smoke while she tended to his wife.

He wandered down the empty corridors, eventually finding a doorway that led out on to a courtyard. He cupped his hands and lit his cigarette just as a sleek silver car skidded to a halt by the garbage bins. A young woman in dark glasses got out and snaked towards him.

Mr. Fell took the cigarette out of his mouth. "You've left your lights on," he said helpfully. The woman gave him a blank look of someone to whom lights are the least of her worries, and waved a hand vaguely towards the Aston Martin. The lights went out.

Mr. Fell lifted an eyebrow. "What, is it infra-red? Nice." He took a drag, released the smoke slowly through his nose.

The woman smiled at him and it looked extremely disturbing on her. "Are you Jonathan Fell?"

She knew his name? Well, the Fells were an illustrious family in Whitmore; his ancestors having bought most of the town's land back in 1756. "Uh, yes, I am."

The smile didn't disappear. "Ah, good." His eyes widened as the woman's hand went from normal to a dark violet glow, black tendrils of smoke curling around her. "My name is Sybilla," she said and strikes.

XXXX

_**Through the stars, courage and memories, **__  
I'm looking for your footprints._

"So," Caroline tossed her blonde curls over her shoulder with a flourish. "I've started looking at places to rent in Whitmore, you know, when we go to school there..."

_I pray you rest peacefully for all eternity,  
This is the middle of the dream._

"...there's no way I'm gonna take any chances with campus housing and risk ending up with the roommate from hell—"

_With wings that can't fly,  
I run up the hill,_

"-this place is perfect! It's called 'Wildfell Cottage' – how cute is that!"

_When I stray from the path,  
I close my eyes and keep going._

"-so what do you think, Bon?"

The girl in question looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Uh, sure..." She tried to speak with confidence but it ended up sounding more like a question than a statement.

"Were you even listening?" Caroline accused.

"Yes!" Bonnie said desperately, "I..."

The blonde blew out an exasperated breath. "No, you weren't. And what is that tune? You've been humming it all day."

Bonnie opened her mouth to respond but, at the dangerous glare being levelled at her, she bit back what was sure to have been a poor denial.

"It's been stuck in my head," she admitted. "I don't know where I heard it." Bonnie gave an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry Care. I guess I have been sort of...distracted."

"Uh, Bonnie..." Elena's eyebrows were practically disappearing into her hairline. She followed the brunette's gaze to see that the straw in her glass was stirring on its own.

"Damnit," Bonnie stopped the straw with her hand and then glanced around anxiously. The other patrons were, thankfully, oblivious.

"Your magic?" Caroline said in a low whisper.

"It's been doing that all week. Since I got back from Scotland," Bonnie gave a frustrated sigh.

"You mean, _you're_ _not _doing..._that_?" Elena gestured awkwardly to the innocuous straw, now perfectly still.

"Not consciously, no. Grams thinks it's a side effect from when the..." she cut herself off sharply, biting her lip. Bonnie twisted her straw paper. "It's nothing. I just have to practice more control. It'll be fine."

There was a pregnant pause.

All three girls knew that wasn't what Bonnie had intended to say. Caroline's lips tightened into a thin line. Glancing between her two friends, Elena hoped this wasn't going to be the start of another argument. Tonight was supposed to be about having fun and trying to move past the awkward tension that had been hanging over them since their last night out.

Caroline cracked first.

"Are you really going to pretend you didn't just lie to us, right now?" She snapped. Bonnie raised her chin stubbornly.

"I didn't lie. This _is_ new to me; I'm still learning about my abilities and how to handle them."

The blonde gave a humourless laugh. "Okay, so you didn't lie. But you're not telling us the whole truth."

The witch shut her eyes.  
It was the same fight all over again. Caroline pushing for Bonnie to be more open, and Bonnie insisting that she was sharing with her as much as she possibly could.

"I don't know what else to do, Care," she said gloomily. "There _are_ things that you don't know. Things I _can't_ tell you. But I am being as honest with you as I can."

They sat in awkward silence. Bonnie traced the coffee cup ring on the mahogany table. Caroline watched the droplets of condensation slide down her glass.

Elena fidgeted in her seat, her nerves about to snap from the suffocating tension. The large booth suddenly felt far too small for the three of them

"Damon turned me down," she blurted out.

Ok, not the smoothest subject change. But at least it cut through the strained silence. Bonnie's glass shot from one end of the table to the other, startling the girls. Caroline snapped her gaze to her doe-eyed friend.

"What happened?"

Elena cleared her throat. "I was ready. I was ready to be with him. So I told him. I wanted him, I wanted a relationship. He said..._no_."

"Just no?" Caroline pressed. Damon walking away from an Elena that was free and willing was certainly a turn up for the books.

"He said that he'd been...blind," the corners of Elena's rosebud mouth turned down in a frown, as if she didn't fully comprehend the words, couldn't make sense of them. "He said he didn't deny that he had loved me. But that's done now. And what he felt won't come back. It's time for him to go his way and me to go mine. He told me he wants to find his own life."

"How do you feel about it?" Bonnie asked tentatively. Her straw paper was now folding itself into a tiny origami flower.

"I just don't understand what happened," she sounded bewildered. "He was there, no matter what. And the way he was with me, I thought that he was...that he would always..." Elena trailed off.

Bonnie and Caroline exchanged knowing glances. Clearly, it had never occurred to Elena that the elder Salvatore would grow tired of her treating him like a yo-yo, decide to get his balls back and move on.

"Well," Caroline said cheerily, "I know it doesn't feel like it now, but I think this is one for the win column," she spoke confidently. "Damon's obsession wasn't healthy. And it would never have led to a good relationship between the two of you."

Elena shrugged. Her gaze turned inward, thoughtful.

"He's changed," she said eventually. "These last few weeks, he's been..._different_ somehow; _lighter_," a note of suspicion entered her voice. "Maybe he's met someone."

Sharply, a memory rose, unbidden, for Bonnie – slamming into her so powerfully, so viscerally, it was like she was experiencing it again.

_A darkened bedroom; she and Damon leaning into each other, his scent all around her; his mouth clinging to hers; her arms twining eagerly around his neck; a new light in his eyes she'd never seen before... _

"Woah!" Caroline was taken aback as the little dish of nuts exploded, sending cashews flying into the air before dropping all over the table.

Elena gave a shriek, her hands flying up to shield her face from the nutty projectiles.

Two bright pink spots appeared on Bonnie's cheeks.

"You really can't control it, can you?" Caroline said sympathetically. She picked an errant cashew nut out of her curls.

"I'm so sorry," Bonnie leapt to her feet. The lights in the Grill flickered. "I'll get someone to help clean this up."

She was walking towards the bar before they could stop her, desperate to get away from the table for a few minutes.

Chad was stacking glasses behind the bar. He sent one of the waitresses over after Bonnie told him about their mishap. He chuckled at her and three minutes later slid a strawberry milkshake towards her.

"You look like you need it," he winked at her, and turned to serve the next patron.

She was about to take her drink and head back to the table when someone called her name.

"Hello Mr. Saltzman," she greeted her favourite teacher.

"Bonnie, what are you up to?" he said pleasantly.

She shrugged. "Just hanging out. Finals are around the corner so we'll all be too busy studying soon."

Bonnie always felt a little awkward seeing teachers outside of school. Even more so with Alaric Saltzman since he wasn't that much older than the senior class. Hell, he must be about Damon's age – in human years, mind. She realized he was still saying something to her and quickly tried to catch up with the conversation.

"Bonnie?" Crap. Now he looked concerned. She needed to stop taking these mini-breaks inside her own head.

"I'm sorry; you were saying something about my independent study?" She recovered quickly.

"That's right. I finished grading your paper, on Elizabeth I, _'less remarkable for her abilities than the fact that, unlike her sisters, she actually got to exercise them'_. That's great stuff," He smiled encouragingly.

"Thanks," her smile was genuine that time.

"Anyway," Mr. Saltzman continued, "I don't know if you've made a decision about college yet, but if you're still interested in that school in Europe, I'd be more than happy to write a reference."

Bonnie blinked. She hadn't thought about that for a long time. There had been so many other things to consume her, like who would be getting the life sucked out of them next, deciding what college to go to seemed almost trivial in comparison.

But she had really, really been excited about maybe studying in Italy or France. Would that even be possible now, with her vampire father's family out for her blood?

"I appreciate that, Mr. Saltzman," She swallowed hard over the sudden lump in her throat. "But I'm not sure I'll be going to college, at least, not in September," she hurried to add on.

"Oh? What changed?" The older man frowned, his gaze searching. "Is everything alright?"

"Fine," she said automatically. The light bulb over the bar burst and she heard Chad curse as a drawer shot open, narrowly missing his crotch.

"_What in the hell..?"_

She tried not to wince.

"I'm just thinking of taking some time off," she started twisting her fingers.

"Well, it's been a busy year for you," he nodded in understanding. "I can imagine its not easy being eighteen, especially when it's just you and your grandmother."

"Grams is great," Her tone came out a little sharper than she had intended, "we're a team."

"I know that, Bonnie. I wasn't speaking against Sheila, and I'm sorry if it seems I'm overstepping," He raised his hands in a placating gesture, "but sometimes, I wonder, if you're not taking on too much," he gave her a sidelong glance, "And if somewhere along the way, that's created a little confusion as to who's the real parent."

She stiffened.

"You'll be graduating soon. You should be excited, making plans; throwing an unruly house party with your friends. Being a_ kid_," he sighed. "But you seem as if you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders."

Bonnie bit her lower lip. The irony of that remark was so thick, it was _painful_. She shook her head a little.

"With all due respect, Mr. Saltzman, but I think you were right," he lifted an eyebrow, "You are overstepping," She met his gaze squarely. "Thank you for your concern but I think it's time I was getting back to my friends."

Alaric Saltzman spared a glance in their direction. Elena and Caroline were not quite quick enough to hide the fact they were staring. When he turned back to Bonnie, her gaze was shuttered.

"Alright," he said finally, jostling his keys. "I hope I didn't cause offense. I didn't mean to poke my nose in. But my interference was kindly meant."

Bonnie managed a small smile and brief nod of acknowledgement.

"Good night, Mr. Saltzman. See you in class," she said as pleasantly as she could.

Then she stepped round him and went to rejoin her friends. As soon as she sat down at the table, Caroline pounced.

"So..." she drew the single syllable out, "you looked pretty cosy," she fluttered her eyelashes for effect.

Elena shook her head. "Really, Care? He's our _teacher_."

"Please," she scoffed; her blonde curls bounced. "He's like, a minute older than us! Besides, we graduate in six weeks and he won't be our teacher anymore. The man is hot! Might be time to push the boat out, Bon," Caroline winked.

The girl in question rolled her eyes playfully. "You are ridiculous," she said. But she couldn't quite tamp down the giggle that slipped past her lips.

The girls relaxed and fell into idle chit-chat; the weird intensity of earlier in the evening was finally dissipating. Matt wandered over to bring their food a little later and Bonnie's thoughts turned to what her history teacher had said, about her taking on so much and forgetting about the business of actually being an eighteen year old.

At the time she'd felt a little defensive. But thinking about it now, he had a point. And it gave her an idea.

"Hey Mattie," she said, when he came to bring their dessert, "what time are you off?"

"I get to punch out in thirty minutes," he easily balanced the various dishes on his tray.

"That's perfect," Bonnie beamed. "How about you hang out with us at my place afterwards?"

Caroline immediately started protesting.

"No, Bonnie! This is supposed to be girl's night! You can't just-"

"You can invite Tyler."

The words were barely out of Bonnie's mouth before the bubbly blonde had her boyfriend on speed dial.

"_Yeah, at Bonnie's place. In like an hour. And bring..."_

She started rattling off a list to Tyler who was no doubt scrambling to make sure he wrote it down and remembered correctly - lest his beautiful girlfriend decide to withhold certain privileges.

"Elena?" Bonnie turned to her brunette friend.

"I'm game," she smiled. "It's been ages since the five of us did anything together, just because. It'll be nice to do something...normal."

An hour later and a half later,Sheila Bennett arrived home to see her house had been taken over by five teenagers: Caroline and Elena were organising an obscene amount of junk food in the kitchen; Tyler was setting up his Xbox in the living room; and Bonnie and Matt appeared to be building some kind of blanket fort, laying out several soft quilts, sheets and goose down pillows.

"I hope this is alright," Bonnie said, once she'd greeted her grandmother. "It was kind of spur-of-the-moment. But I didn't think you'd mind."

Sheila eyed the junk food that Caroline had started to bring out.

"Save me a pack of Twinkies and we're good," she winked at her granddaughter.

"Thanks, Grams," then lowering her voice so they wouldn't be overhead, she added, "any word from Klaus?"

Bonnie had had the moonstone in her possession for two weeks now. She'd been so intent on recovering it so Mikael wouldn't get his hands on it, she hadn't actually thought through to what she would _do_ with it once she did.

"_It's not like I can just head over to Mount Doom and destroy it," she'd snarked at Damon, when he'd told her to get rid of it, like it was the most obvious thing in the world._

It wouldn't be that easy. They were dealing with ancient magic.

"He's heading to Helsinki, to meet with a contact. And he has Liam still checking if there's anything of use in his family's extensive collection. Speaking of which," Sheila helped herself to the aforementioned Twinkies, "remind me to ask him if I can borrow Nostradamus' book of prophecy. I could do with a bit of light reading."

"That's what you call light?" Bonnie looked incredulous. She didn't pretend to understand her Grams love of reading and collecting hard-to-find books. "And we were talking about Klaus. Who's this contact he's meeting?"

Sheila kissed Bonnie's cheek. "It's nothing for you to worry about, baby. If there's anything important, Klaus will get in touch. In the meantime, have fun with your friends. I'll be in my study, grading papers." She pocketed one more packet of Twinkies and turned to address the whole group.

"You kids have a good time – but no alcohol," Sheila eyed them all sternly. "You're not yet so big and mighty that I won't put you over my knee."

Matt smirked as Tyler's ears turned a telling shade of pink.

"Yes, Ms. Bennett."

XXXX

**Sheila smiled at the picture Matt and Bonnie made, fast asleep amongst practically wall-to-wall bedding.**

The others had left just after midnight and Sheila had no objections when Bonnie asked if Matt could sleepover. She tiptoed through the darkened living room. The only light came from the television, where the ball scene from _Labyrinth_ was currently playing. With a chuckle, she switched it off, sure that Bonnie and Matt would be re-watching it in the morning. The film had terrified them when they were younger, but now they could recite the lines right along with Sarah and Jareth.

Bonnie made a sound in her sleep and she froze, hoping she hadn't woken her. But her granddaughter didn't stir and Sheila continued to the kitchen. She frowned at the time on the clock.

3:15 am.

A bottle of water floated out of the fridge and Sheila helped herself to a drink. As she was getting older, she didn't need as much sleep. But this was still ridiculously early.

She'd woken up to a strange prickling feeling at the nape of her neck. Knew what it meant.

She nearly dropped her water bottle.

There it was again. The faintest nudge at the corners of her mind. Like a ghostly caress. Her eyes flashed gold as she tried to latch on to the foreign aura.

It was predatory - nothing but hunger and fury. A splinter of ice ran down her spine.

Somewhere, in the dark, another witch was out there. _Taunting, _hinting at their presence.

She glanced back into the living room. Bonnie and Matt were still sleeping peacefully. Good.

_Ic ȸe bebiede mid ealle strangnesse d__æ__t ou gebl__æ__west ond sierest strange._

Sheila whispered the protective spell and then slipped silently out the back door into the night.

XXXX

_**It was snowing. All around her.**_

Everything seemed to glisten like a bed of stars. The crystals clung to her hair and her lashes. She seemed to be floating; suspended in time and space.

_A disembodied voice drifted to her._

'_I'll show all of it to you, mistress. All the light and darkness, every moment in your past. Some of it shines brightly. And some of it is shrouded in darkness.'_

'_How do I find you?' Bonnie called to the air. 'Show me your face.' _

_The world focused to a single, white-hot point. Every physical apparatus of her body seemed to hum, lit from within as if with glowing coals._

'_What do you want from me?'_

_Bonnie gasped. _

_Elijah. Her father. He was talking to a woman. She was dressed in ceremonial robes and around her neck hung a charm not unlike the triskelion necklace Idris had gifted to Bonnie. Behind her was a simple altar and on it, a chalice brimming with some sort of oil, black as liquid night, as the river in Mystic Falls. And next to the chalice...the moonstone._

_The woman's face sobered._

"_A sacred promise. It needs someone with fury in his heart and shadows in his smile. Someone restless and clever, brave and true."_

_Her face was compelling, dark eyes warm and deep. "But understand. You will be transformed. Brought into direct contact with the divine. Bound to the ancients, to him.'_

'_But not ruled by him?'_

'_No,' her voice softened. 'Your will is the stronger. Always. Can you do this, Elijah? Are you willing to take the oath?'_

'_I am willing.' He knelt before her. 'Proceed Mistress Ayanna.'_

_Bonnie's vision was growing hazy. The world seemed to be dissolving. A searing heat burned through her shoulder. She cried out and her body arched up with the panic of awareness._

"-it's okay, Bonnie. It's alright. I'm here." Something cool was on her forehead. On her cheeks. On her neck.

Bonnie opened her eyes to see Matt's concerned face hovering over her. He was wiping her forehead with a cool, damp towel.

"Are you alright?" His voice was thick, urgent.

Bonnie sat up. She was hot. Her hair was wet and it was sticking to her face.

"I think you were having a bad dream. I tried to wake you and then this happened."

She blinked and for the first time noticed that the entire living room was lit up like a Christmas tree. Tiny flames encased in translucent orbs were floating in the air, gilding everything with a golden glow.

"I'm so sorry, Matt," she apologised.

"For what?" He frowned. "I was worried when I couldn't seem to wake you, and you were burning up. But you're okay now, right?" He put a hand on her forehead to check.

"I am," Bonnie smiled. "But I didn't want to scare you," she glanced pointedly at the dancing orbs of light.

Matt tilted his head up to follow her gaze.

"It's beautiful," he said quietly. "Bonnie, what you can do," he shook his head, "you're amazing."

That sensation, like her stomach was trying to gnaw its way out of her body, ceased at his words.

She pulled him into a grateful hug and with a few whispered words, the floating flames disappeared.

"Amazing," Matt murmured again.

They both got up. Matt went to the kitchen and Bonnie headed to the bathroom to clean up a bit, since she was still feeling rather hot and uncomfortable after the intensity of the dream. She felt much better after she splashed cold water on her face and fixed her hair into two low, loose ponytails. When she came back out into the living room, Matt was sitting on the sofa, two bottles of water on the coffee table. He tossed one two her, watching her with a fond smile, the corners of his mouth twitching. At her questioning gaze, he broke into a full grin.

"You look like a cute eight year old."

Bonnie socked his shoulder for that comment. They sat in companionable silence and she took a sip of water.

"Do you want to talk about your dream?" Matt said after a beat.

Her brow furrowed as the images played in her head. "It wasn't a dream."

Matt looked like he was about to ask what she meant when the front door opened and Sheila Bennett swept in like a hurricane.

"Grams?!" Bonnie jumped to her feet.

It had taken a moment for Sheila to register their presence. Her eyes scanned over both of them, frantically and then she let out a breath.

"Oh thank goodness. You're both alright."

"But you're not," Bonnie's eyes widened at the large blood stain on her grandmother's blouse.

"It's not my blood, baby," she said gravely and then proceeded to the kitchen. A moment later, she marched back out, a small glass bottle with violet liquid in her hand and a small gold pentagram.

"Grams, what's going on?" Bonnie's voice had gone up several decibels with increasing alarm.

"Questions will have to wait," Sheila spoke calmly but her body language was tense.

"Grams..."

"Baby, I need you to listen to me," her grandmother's voice was cool, authoritative. Like a general giving orders to his troops. "Call 911. Get an ambulance and a police car to come to 24 Beresford drive." That was two blocks away. "Tell them there's been an assault."

"What-"

"Bonnie," Sheila cut her off; an edge of urgency slipping into her otherwise calm demeanour. "Just do as I say. And make sure that you and Matt stay inside until I get back. I mean that, Bonnie," Sheila fixed her with a stern gaze, her eyes pleading with her granddaughter.

She swallowed hard. This was serious.

"Ok." Matt was already reaching for the phone.

Sheila was gone then, the door banging loudly behind her. Bonnie was vaguely aware of Matt's conversation with emergency services. He joined her afterwards on the sofa.

They didn't say anything. There was nothing to do but wait.

XXXX

**When Sheila returned to the Bennett home nearly two hours later, she wasn't alone.**  
Liz Forbes and Damon were with her.

Bonnie was coming out of the kitchen when she collided with the raven-haired vampire.

"Are you alright?" he demanded hoarsely, taking her shoulders gently in his hands to stabilize her.

"I'm fine," she gave a gasp of shock, "what are you doing here?"

"I was with Liz when she got the call. It was close to your place and since Matt made the call..." he trailed off, his expression deepened and Bonnie realised what had been running through his head.

"I really am alright."

Something in his tense expression relaxed in a rush of relief, and the sight of that relief touched Bonnie deeply.

"Where's Grams? Did you see her?" she asked, to distract herself and because she really wanted to know.

"She and Liz are talking in the kitchen."

Wordlessly, he slipped an arm around her waist and guided her in the direction of the muffled voices, belonging to Sheriff Forbes and the Bennett matriarch. She didn't need his support, but she didn't pull away. And he didn't release her until she went to greet her grandmother, Sheila hugging her back fiercely.

"I'm fine baby, its ok."

Sheriff Forbes got to her feet. "Alright, Sheila. Thank you for your statement. I may still have one or two questions, but they'll keep till the morning. And if you think of anything else, don't hesitate to get in touch."

Her Grams assured the sheriff she would and then went to see her out. Damon resumed his position next to Bonnie, standing close enough that their hands brushed.

"You okay, Bon?" Matt ventured. And for the first time, Damon seemed to realize that the other boy was there. His gaze narrowed as he eyed Matt's bare feet, boxers and t-shirt, and sleep-rumpled hair.

She managed a smile. "Yeah. It's been a strange night."

"That's putting it mildly," Sheila Bennett rejoined them in the kitchen. Bonnie looked at her Grams face carefully – the soft, tired features, faints lines next to her eyes and beside her mouth. But it was the hollow, numb look in her eyes that made her pause.

"A lot's happened and I will tell you everything," Sheila sighed. "But it's late. So let's talk later, ok? You and Matt should try to get some sleep. And I need to change," she glanced down at her stained blouse. A shudder ran through her.

Bonnie wanted to push for more answers. But she resisted the impulse since whatever happened; clearly put her grandmother through the wringer.

"Alright, later," she kissed her grandmother's cheek. "I love you, Grams."

"You know you're my everything, baby girl," Grams tugged one of her ponytails playfully. Then she turned to Damon. "Mr Salvatore, I'm sure you can see yourself out."

Sheila headed upstairs and Matt was in the living room. So Bonnie stood with Damon on the Bennett's front porch, their shoulders brushing. The sun was starting to come up, the horizon line painted with a faint pink blush. She crossed her arms protectively over her stomach.

"Grams is scared," she murmured. The words sounded foreign to her ears.

"She's worried about you," He reached out to put a hand on her forearm.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice barely a breath.

"It was an unnatural attack. Not a vampire. Nothing like an animal."

"A witch?"

"Looks that way."

"And Sheriff Forbes? Does she...?"

A flicker of a shadow crossed Damon's eyes. "I'm pretty sure she suspects there's something supernatural involved," he admitted reluctantly.

Bonnie looked down at his hand on her arm, eyes trailing up to study his profile.

"How come you were with Liz when she heard about the attack?" She had been wondering about that since she'd bumped into him outside her bedroom.

Damon released a harsh breath. "This wasn't the only attack tonight."

Bonnie tensed but waited for him to continue. "Liz called me a few hours ago. Said a body had been discovered at the high school. Some teenage punks snuck in to smoke pot on the football field. They found the corpse, called it in."

She leaned into him a little more. "Did they ID the body?"

"History teacher. Alaric Saltzman."

Bonnie blanched. A heavy feeling settled in her gut. "But...how...that can't..." she stuttered, and took a breath to compose herself, "I just spoke to him a few hours ago!"

Damon tugged her against him. His arms went around her as the top of her head fit perfectly under his chin. She clung to his leather jacket, her knuckles turning white.

"I don't like this," she said, and only then realised that she was trembling. Damon held her tighter and she knew he could hear how frantically her heart was pounding.

"We've stared down the barrel of a gun before, Judgey." The nickname, however out of place in that moment, was oddly comforting.

"This is different," Bonnie spoke into his chest.

Damon looked down to meet her eyes. His hand came up to her face. Bonnie's heart was pounding again – this time for an entirely different reason. Damon's face didn't seem to move, but it transformed just the same. His blue eyes so deep and soft she could drown in them. He lowered his head, their foreheads resting against each other.

"We're a team, Bonnie," his cool breath ghosted over her lips. "We'll figure it out. We always do."

**TBC**

* * *

**AN 2: **I hope this goes some way towards making up for the wait. Thank you for reading! Comments are always welcome and appreciated :).


	26. A Game of You

**Author's note: **A big thank you to everyone who took the time to leave such kind and encouraging comments! I love hearing what you think and feel about the story. And to everyone reading, favoriting and following this fic, I appreciate that too. You all keep me motivated to continue writing this sprawling tale. It's turning out to be so much bigger than even I had initially imagined.

**Disclaimer:** No copyright infringement intended. I own nothing.

* * *

22

**A GAME OF YOU**

**Damon took a petty satisfaction in watching the young boy squirm.**  
He was anxious to see Bonnie after the bloody events of the previous evening and didn't appreciate Liz summoning him to the station, delaying his return to the Bennett house. So he thought nothing of taking his irritation out on the teenage boy in the chair next to him.

Trip Fell. He'd recognised him from one of Tyler Lockwood's infamous keg parties. Back then the boy had gotten in Stefan's face because his little brother had usurped his position as quarterback on the team.

Yeah, he'd never liked him.

Damon continued staring at the boy with thinly veiled contempt. Trip was doing his best to avoid the other man's glacial stare, eyes darting frantically around Sheriff Forbes' office. When he accidentally caught the vampire's gaze, Damon simply cocked an eyebrow and Trip looked about ready to jump out of his skin.

Inwardly, Damon smirked. He still had it.

"I'm sorry to keep you boys waiting," Liz shut the door behind her and Trip looked up somewhat relieved as the Sheriff joined them. "It's a been a-"

"Let's skip the niceties," Damon cut in rudely. He leaned back in his chair. "Why am I here?"

Liz was visibly annoyed by his arrogance. But Damon didn't care. He always preferred information to be delivered quickly and efficiently, wishing people would just give him the key bullet points and get to the bottom line instead of wasting his time.

"Mr. Fell," Liz turned her attention to the teenager. "I'd like you to tell Mr. Salvatore what you told me."

Damon watched the boy's Adam's apple bob up and down. He cleared his throat nervously.

"It's alright, Trip," Liz tried to reassure the boy knowing that Damon's hostility wasn't helping any.

Trip ran a hand through his hair and nodded.

"I was talking to a buddy of mine, from New Orleans," he started. "We were swapping stories, urban legends, about some of the crazy stuff that supposedly happened in our towns. Like all those monsters you were scared of when you were little are actually real," he scoffed. "Anyway, he started telling me about this serial killer a few years back. Some kind of satanic nut, total wackjob. And it was really messed up stuff-"

"Is there a point to this monologue?" Damon interrupted impatiently. He couldn't help but take pleasure at the way the kid jumped in his seat.

Liz shot a covert glare at the vampire. "Keep going, Trip."

The boy pushed the sleeves of his Henley shirt up. "The markings."

Damon's eyes narrowed. "What markings?" he said, only slightly interested.

Trip started to speak with more confidence now. "So my buddy, he tells me how the cops found this knife, with all kinda weird symbols and shit – sorry," he spared a glance at Liz after his slip. "They figured that was the murder weapon."

"That kind of information wouldn't have been made public," Damon looked at the boy suspiciously, "So, Trippy," the boy's jaw stiffened at the name, "how did your _buddy_ find out about it?"

"His dad was the detective who worked the case. Kinda obsessed, actually. He tended to bring stuff home from work, evidence logs, that sorta deal," Trip sniffed. "That's when I remembered. I overheard Dad talking with Mr. Lockwood about the...the bodies," he swallowed, "that they'd been branded with weird markings, some kinda hieroglyphics or something..."

"So what?" Damon arched a sceptical brow. "Now you figure that the same Satan-worshipping nut travelled hundreds of miles to start targeting people here in happy valley?" the words were acerbic, dripping with sarcasm.

A tic started in the boy's jaw and his cheeks flushed. "I dunno alright," he practically growled, struggling to keep his voice steady. "It just seemed like a pretty fucking big coincidence," he spat, no longer caring that Sheriff Forbes heard him use such coarse language. "I just thought there mighta been somethin' in it." Trip got to his feet. "But you and your brother, the sun shine's outta your ass right? You figure it out." He didn't wait to be dismissed by Liz, just spared her a quick apology, turned on his heel and left.

After the door shut behind Trip, Liz turned her ire on the older man.

"Jesus Damon, he's just a kid!" she ranted, "Did you have to be such an ass?"

"You wasted my time with this bullshit," he retorted. "Come on, Liz. Don't tell me you think the locker room talk of a couple of teen jocks qualifies as an actual lead?"

"You don't think so?" she stood with her hands on her hips. "I called the 36th precinct in the French Quarter, Damon. Spoke to a Detective Dugrey. Now he wasn't exactly keen to reminisce, but his account of the case confirms the kid's story. And then, he faxed me _this_," Liz pulled out a black and white photo from the folder on her desk. Handed it to him.

It was a picture of an unusual knife. The handle bore some sort of crest and there were symbols all down the blade. He blinked.

"See anything _familiar_?" Liz asked knowingly.

"The markings..."

"...are exactly the same as the symbols branded on the chests of our two bodies," Liz finished the thought for him. "Now here's where it gets really interesting. According to Dugrey, when their forensic team tried to handle the weapon, it nearly burned their fingers clean off. Their theory at the time was that the knife was made of some type of corrosive alloy; to prevent them from testing it, dusting for prints and the like," she shot Damon a sceptical look.

"You have a different theory."

Liz walked out from behind her desk. Started to pace.

"Both Alaric Saltzman and Andrea Philips died of massive haemorrhaging, consistent with blunt force trauma or multiple stab wounds. But there was no evidence of either on the bodies. Then there are the brandings, the symbols..."

Damon felt a spiral of terror begin to curl in his chest. "Liz..."

She stopped pacing. Looked him squarely in the eyes. "You're a Salvatore. You know the history of this town – vampires were not the only things to plague Mystic Falls."

That spiral of terror just turned into a throbbing of dread. Shit.

"Witches," he forced himself to remain outwardly calm. If Liz got even a whiff that he knew more than he'd been letting on...it didn't bear thinking about. "You're talking about witches."

"I know it sounds impossible," the sheriff resumed her pacing, "but after the last three years in this town, I'm starting to believe _everything_ is possible."

_Calm, Damon, stay calm,_ he chanted in his head. _Bonnie's secret is still safe, you can work with this._

"Alright," he looked at the photo in his hands. "Leave this with me – I'm assuming you made copies?" at her nod, he continued, "I have a contact. Knows something about the occult. Let me see if he can maybe tell us anything about these symbols."

"We need to call a meeting of the council," Liz asserted.

"We will. Just give me a few hours."

"We need to clue them in," she repeated, "whatever this thing is, I get the feeling it's only starting."

"Let me talk to my contact, Liz," Damon tried to calm her urgency. "I'm asking for a few hours."

Sheriff Forbes considered it.

"End of the day, Salvatore," she said finally. "But you be at the town hall, 6pm sharp, no excuses."

XXXX

**Trip Fell scanned the park and found what he was looking for.**

_**He**_ was feeding the ducks. Right.

Trip jogged over to the duck pond, joining the immaculately dressed young man: well-pressed trousers, suspenders, dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, tie; dark brown hair slicked back. He looked like a character from a 1940s noir film and far more sophisticated than his nineteen years.

Trip turned to the other boy.

"It's done," he murmured.

"Good lad."

Mr. suspenders tossed the last scrap of bread at the ducks, which was immediately snatched up by a scruffy-looking drake.

"Impressive, isn't it?" a speculative gleam in his honey eyes as he continued to watch the ducks. "They have all the appearance of doing nothing, being perfectly serene. But beneath the surface, how busily they work, how quickly they must have to tread. No-one would suspect."

He turned to face Trip. "You've done well. Now you'll be sure to head home and tell your father everything, just as we discussed."

"Of course," Trip agreed instantly.

"And if anyone asks, you'll tell them 'I've told you everything I know. My friend from New Orleans has gone away'."

"You got it, bud," Trip's smile was broad and manic.

"Alright, better make tracks then. Get it over with," Suspenders stuck out his hand. "Thank you for your help, Trip. You've been very obliging."

The two boys shook hands and then went their separate ways.

Suspenders walked up to the black Bentley, parked conspicuously on the lawn but in the very convenient shade of a lovely old oak tree. A bright pink parking ticket had been slipped beneath the wiper. He plucked it out and tore it up, then sauntered round to the driver's side. A rakish smile appeared on his face when he spotted the figure in the passenger seat.

"Hello, brother dear," he said, sliding into the driver's seat. "Checking up on me?"

"With good reason. I see you haven't lost your flair for the theatrical. Really, Kol," Henrik looked up from the open book in his lap, "Feeding the ducks? You're not some Bond villain meeting his number one."

"Do you expect me to talk, Mr. Mikaelson?" Kol shot back playfully.

"I expect you to avoid drawing unnecessary attention to yourself." A beat. "You did it then?"

"It's taken care of. We've given them just enough rope to hang themselves," Kol put the Bentley in gear. Then he remembered something. He snapped his fingers. The wheel clamps disappeared.

"You shouldn't do that in broad daylight," Henrik said disapprovingly.

"I wouldn't worry about it. This town has a vampire heading its very own anti-vampire brigade. Pretty bloody oblivious, if you ask me."

"Hmm."

Kol turned the key in the ignition. "Let's have lunch. Tinkering in the affairs of humans always gives me an appetite – aren't ordinary people adorable," he smirked.

Henrik snapped the _Book of Transfiguration_ shut. "Fine," he agreed. "I owe you one from, when was it..."

"Venice, 1666."

"Oh, yes. The Reign of Terror," he smiled fondly.

"That was some of your best work," Kol acknowledged.

The Bentley hurtled through the suburban streets, neither brother paying any mind to the astonished pedestrians, parents with their kids and old couples out walking their dogs.

Henrik checked his fob watch. "It's a short drive to D.C.," he murmured.

"The Ritz then?"

Henrik nodded. He didn't bother to book. In his world, things like table reservations only ever happened to other people.

XXXX

**Bonnie's mouth was catching flies.**  
She swallowed. Opened her mouth again. Tried to form words. Nothing.

"It's a lot to take in," Sheila glanced at her cup of coffee. It had gone cold.

"Their souls..." Bonnie finally managed to get out.

"Uh huh."

"We're..._stolen..."_

"Ripped out, " Sheila nodded.

"How...?" Bonnie wrinkled her nose in confusion, "Is that even possible?"

Bonnie was struggling to get her head around her Grams' explanation of everything that had happened the previous night.

The witch had brazenly taunted her grandmother; Grams had gone out hoping to find the individual whose malevolent aura she'd sensed. But she'd been too late and found a barely alive Andrea Philips, their neighbour from two blocks over, with the bulldog who had a habit of trampling all over Grams tulips and special herbs. Grams had tried to stabilize her, but it was too late. Andrea Philips died in the ER.

"I've not come across it before," Sheila took a sip of her coffee. Winced. Ice cold. "For a witch, a soul is a sacred thing. We don't mess with that, _ever_. Even necromancers, like Aunt Inez, only commune with the souls of the dead. They never attempt to manipulate, transform or alter. But I don't think we're dealing with just _any _witch."

Sheila got up and poured her coffee down the sink.

"What _are_ we dealing with?" Bonnie leaned on her hand. "Is this about the moonstone?"

"Could be. It does seem strange that just after you recover it, these attacks start," Bonnie worried her lower lip, "But it could be something else. I've made my fair share of enemies," at her granddaughter's wide eyes, Sheila gave a small laugh.

"What? You think I've always been a college professor? That came much later," she patted Bonnie's hand. "I certainly raised some hell in my day, sweets. Guess it's hereditary," she eyed the younger girl knowingly. "We Bennetts are attracted to trouble. And trouble sure seems to love us," the words were bittersweet.

The Bennett witches were a powerful line. But the more powerful they were, the more dangerous the world they lived in became.

_A balance to everything,_ Sheila thought wryly.

Less amusing was the fact that every Bennett woman's life had ultimately ended bloody. It was one of the reasons Sheila had hesitated to tell Bonnie _everything_ about her heritage; trying to protect her from this world for as long as possible.

However, Bonnie was the most powerful. Of that, Sheila had no doubt. And hopefully, she would succeed where the rest of them had failed.

"How are you so calm about all this?" Bonnie drew Grams back from her thoughts.

Grams snorted. "I wasn't. Not at first. But I had the last five hours to get my head around this and pull myself together. You're just hearing this for the first time."

"So how do we stop her?"

Sheila put her hand to her temple as if she was getting a headache.

"I don't know," she admitted. Her light-hearted demeanour dropped. "I'll be honest with you, baby. I'm out of my depth right now. And that terrifies me. The thought of not being able to protect you. But that doesn't mean I won't go down swinging," Sheila spoke fiercely. "This son of a bitch is not going to get away with this."

Outside, unbeknown to both Bennetts, the sky had darkened and lightning flashed.

"Okay," her eyes shone with renewed determination at her Grams' words. "So first, we need to work out what kind of witch we're dealing with."

"I tried to call Klaus, that old man should know something, being 1000-something years old," Bonnie's lips quirked. "But I couldn't reach him. Left him a message, I'm sure he'll call as soon as he can." She looked at Bonnie thoughtfully, then, her voice soft, "I still don't like him. But he's a good uncle."

Bonnie swallowed over the lump in her throat. Knew what a huge thing that was for her grandmother to admit.

"He is," she said, her voice just as soft. Then, to stop them drowning in sentiment - 'cause that just won't do when you're working on a plan to stop a homicidal witch – she added, "a bit overbearing. And violent. A little nutty."

"Is he _ever_," Grams let out a low whistle. "That boy's gone and made himself the damn mayor of crazy town!"

The two women looked at each other. Burst into giggles. It was a welcome respite from the heaviness of the past few hours.

"What about the markings on the...body?" Bonnie said once they'd sobered. Something twisted in her gut at her words.

No matter how much she'd seen, how much she'd been through with vampires and witches a regular part of her life; that never got any easier to say. A part of her, the part of her she didn't like to acknowledge as still having doubts, was secretly relieved. Because it meant that a corner of her soul, at least, was still very much human.

"There was a lot going on, baby," Sheila said. "I don't remember exactly, but I'm pretty sure it was some early, very primitive form of Gaelic. I'd need to get another look at the body to be sure," Bonnie didn't notice the sly look creep across her grandmother's face. So she was unprepared when Sheila continued, "Maybe your Mr. Salvatore can help with that. As head of the council, I'm sure Liz would grant him access."

"Probably. But he's not _my_ Mr. Salvatore," She added lamely, hating how small and embarrassed her voice sounded.

"Then you might want to tell _him_ that."

And _that_ was a whole can of worms Bonnie just wasn't ready to pick up, let alone open. The two settled into a not altogether comfortable silence.

Then Bonnie had a thought. There _was _someone else who might be able to help. Whether he would agree to was another story. And Grams would definitely hate it. But...

"What is it, baby?"

Bonnie sighed. "I have an idea," she wrinkled her nose. "You're not going to like it."

XXXX

**He'd been pounding steadily at her door for two minutes.**

"In the name of all that is unholy, Judgey, answer. The. DAMN DOOR!"

The door opened so suddenly, he half stumbled into the hallway. But it wasn't Bonnie.

"Hello to you too, Damon."

The vampire snarled and pushed past the blonde boy. "Bonnie! Get down here!"

Matt shut the front door, leaning casually against the doorjamb.

"She's not here, Salvatore. Bonnie and Sheila took off about a half hour ago."

"What?! Took off where?!"

"I don't know. Just said they had to meet someone." Matt's cornflower blue eyes narrowed.

At first, he'd thought Damon was just being his usual arrogant self when he stood beating a drum solo with his knuckles against the Bennetts' door. But looking at him now, the barely concealed panic and agitation rolling off of him, Matt realised that concern not ego was driving the vampire's actions.

"What's going on, Damon?"

"This really doesn't concern you," Damon huffed impatiently, "and frankly, it's above your metaphorical pay grade."

"That's bull," he squared right up to the vampire. "Bonnie isn't truthful with me all the time, but she's always _honest_. I maybe don't know the details, but I know enough to want to help my friend, any way I can, if she's in trouble. And considering I've been the only one in your corner where Bonnie is concerned, I think I deserve a little more credit."

His chest heaved, lungs desperately trying to draw in air his rant had denied him, while Damon considered his words. His thoughts flashed back to a conversation on a stone bench.

That lazy afternoon, in the middle of a summer wedding Damon had really had no business being at, Matt hadn't judged him. He hadn't pulled some overprotective shtick to warn him away from Bonnie _or else_. The boy had respected her decision to have Damon in her life, and given him the benefit of the doubt.

"Alright."

Matt listened patiently to his explanation, waiting until after the vampire had finished his tale to voice his thoughts.

"Maybe we don't need Bonnie or Grams to find out about that blade," He said.

"Come again?"

"You remember Nelson and Zaara? The wedding you gate crashed?"

"Hey! I'll have you know. I was _instrumental_ in there even _being_ a wedding to gatecrash!"

Matt shook his head. "My point is...Zaara owns an occult bookstore in Bridgetown. It's kind of a hobby of hers, that's how she and Nelson met. She might have something that could help us."

"_Us_?"

Matt was already reaching for his keys. "You didn't think, after all that, I was gonna sit this one on the bench."

"Matt, I don't think-"

"That wasn't a question, Salvatore. I'm going with you."

Damon took a threatening step towards the younger boy. "I could just _compel_ you." His grin was shark-like.

"Try it. See what happens," Matt stared him down, an obvious challenge in his eyes.

_He must have learned that look from Bonnie,_ Damon idly thought watching the kid. His head cocked, like a bird eyeing its prey.

It wasn't worth the trouble.  
And Bonnie would likely set him on fire when she found out. He cringed inwardly. She _always_ found out.

Damon turned on his heel and headed for the door. "We take my car. I'm driving. You slow me down; I won't hesitate to leave your ass on the side of the road."

Matt hid a smile. They both knew he'd won that round.

XXXX

**They were sitting amongst the old ruins of the witches' house.**  
Bonnie took a deep breath. Released it slowly. Tried to tune everything out, find that silent space in her mind and...

"I feel stupid," she opened her eyes. Saw Sheila do the same. "I feel stupid! It's been _two hours_, Grams. How do we even know this is going to work?"

"Catha priests were trained to separate their mind from their body. I think the idea was if they were captured by an enemy, more..._aggressive _methods of interrogation would be ineffective."

"You mean torture."

Sheila nodded. "Remember Bonnie, it's the mind that registers pain. Not the body. What I'm getting at is if they could do that, they must have a pretty well developed telepathic consciousness."

"Them - maybe. But I'm not Professor friggin' X," she scowled, her frustration with the past two, fruitless hours beginning to show.

Sheila raised an eyebrow at her granddaughter's brusque tone, but didn't check her on it.

"Baby, you haven't even begun to tap into all the power inside you," she said instead. "You can do this, Bonnie. Trust your instincts, your magic."

The girl looked sceptical, glancing uncertainly at the Catha's ring; the silver band cool against her left palm.

_Through the stars, courage and memories,__  
I'm looking for your footprints._

"Do you hear that?"

But Sheila didn't. Bonnie didn't know why, but she latched on to the strains of that strange, haunting tune, allowing her mind to drift.

_When I stray from the path,  
I close my eyes and keep going._

She felt flushed. Couldn't seem to catch her breath. There was a tingle around her temples, and she wasn't surprised to raise her right hand and trace the prominent, now silvered veins, around her eyes.

"Hello Ms. Bennett," a deep, cultured voice murmured. "I believe you _called_."

Bonnie's eyes snapped open.  
Twinkling grey eyes. Unruly chestnut curls. Patrician features. A navy, World War 2 military-style greatcoat.

"Tristan Dubois, I presume."

Bonnie wondered how her Grams seemed totally unaffected by the man's otherworldly presence. She felt as if she'd been knocked off her feet by a hurricane.

"Sheila Bennett," he gave a regal bow of his head. "I have not had the pleasure."

"And you won't, if I have anything to say about it. I don't tend to roll out the welcome mat for no good sons-a-guns trying to terrorize my granddaughter."

Tristan continued to smile his smug smile and his hands were behind his back. His eyes shifted toward Bonnie.

"What did you hope to accomplish with this little tête-á-tête?" he said smoothly, sounding genial. "When last we spoke, you left rather abruptly. Before we could settle our negotiations."

"Negotiations?" Bonnie gave an ironic snort, but was glad to be able to summon back her courage and control. "I told you. I'm not interested."

"You think you are capable of fulfilling this task alone?"

"I'm not alone," she glanced over, in the direction of her grandmother.

"Then if you have yet to reconsider my proposal, what _do_ you want?"

Bonnie looked at Tristan suspiciously and wondered if he was just humouring her.

"You told me once, that you were not my enemy. Were you telling the truth?"

"The _truth_? How novel." Tristan moved liked a predator, circling her slowly. "What you must understand, Miss Bennett, is that there isn't just one truth out there. Everyone involved carries their own form of the truth." He stepped forward, tilted his head down as he spoke so his breath blew over her skin. "You alone will have to decide if I am your enemy or not."

Sheila moved in front of her then, like a tigress protecting her cub. "You seem to have the wrong impression about our agenda," her voice rough and ice cold. "Clearly, this was a mistake. Goodbye, Mr Dubois." She grabbed Bonnie's hand and started to pull her away.

"It's a maleficus."

Sheila was so angry now her teeth practically snapped as she hissed, "What are you talking about?"

"That_ is_ why you sought me out. The witch stalking you - she is a maleficus."

Chilly ripples ran through her spine, but Bonnie managed to keep her voice level when she asked, "What's a maleficus?"

"Imagine a pit, black as night," he said in a silky, dangerous voice. "Nothing lives there. Only despair, malice, fury, hatred. And a singular desire to ravage and ruin. The magic a maleficus uses is born out of that pit."

Bonnie felt her throat close with fear, unconsciously tightening her grip on Grams' hand.

"I've done battle before," Sheila said, a hard edge to her voice. "Whatever your motives now, you are still a Catha. And you are bound to the laws of our craft. This witch has been stealing souls. Even you can't abide by that. Tell me how to find her. I won't bother you with the rest. Fair fight's not really your speed."

He tsked his tongue at the blatant dig. "Now there's no call for that kind of talk," he approached closer. "If you want to find the witch, seek out the souls she stole. She will have to keep them close."

Ready for this encounter to be over, Sheila turned to leave dragging Bonnie with her. But the warlock's words halted her once again.

"You spoke of the laws of our craft," he said. "Then you will be familiar with the law of equal trade," He smiled, dangerous as a viper. "I've always considered it a lesson; that nothing can be gained without sacrifices."

"If you have a point, I suggest you get to it," Sheila bit out.

"To gain something, you must present something of equal value," He met her gaze, seemed to be willing her to understand something. "Those souls are being harvested for a reason."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"That's always been your failing Sheila. Your determination to see things in black and white. I would advise you to consider that this world is often far more complicated than that."

"Well you can take your advice and stick it up your-"

"Miss Sheila," Tristan broke in with a dangerous laugh, "I'm not forcing anything on you. I'm sure you won't believe me – not based purely on my testimony. But I do not have monstrous intentions towards your family. Consider, you can admit now, your daughter's husband was not the man you thought him to be. And I may not be as well."

XXXX

"_**Judgey, you're not picking up your damn phone.**__  
You better be out joyriding with Sheila and not tied up in a basement somewhere. 'Cause if I have to drag myself out to Nowheresville , Virginia to rescue your cute ass - after the day I've had – I'll kill you. Meet me at the boarding house when you get this. I'll be there as soon as I can escape the council meeting." _

Damon snapped his phone shut and put his baby into park.

6:20 pm.

He took his time, making his way up the steps to the town hall, Liz be damned.  
Matt's tip had panned out. It had taken them nearly five hours, and he was sure Bonnie would have had a way to speed things up, but between him, Matt and Zaara, their efforts finally bore results.

Not that Damon had any intention of telling Liz and the others what he learned. And he would make damn sure they never got the opportunity to find out otherwise.

He slipped into the council chamber, ignoring the disgruntled murmurs at his tardiness, and dropped into his seat just as Liz started telling the gathered assembly about her conversation with Detective Dugrey.

"Damon, if you want to tell us what you found out," Liz finished her speech.

The vampire moved to the podium in the centre of the room. Making sure he looked appropriately dissatisfied, he started, "The good news, I did manage to catch a break and translate those symbols. The bad news," Damon expelled a frustrated breath, "it's not going to do us much good. It _is_ a druidic blade, dating back to the early days of the Anglo-Saxons, possibly even before," he glanced round at the others.

Jonathan Fell had not taken his eyes off Damon since he'd started speaking; a self-satisfied smile growing on the older man's face. When the vampire paused, Fell waved him on almost commandingly. The gesture typical of a man used to being in charge and having others do his bidding without question.

"Those symbols are not any kind of magic spell to chase off civilians," he lied smoothly. Fell was looking increasingly smug and amused, "Just the motto of the Druid House of Fionn mac Cumhaill. Sorry, Liz."

"But that doesn't explain what Dugrey said," the sheriff insisted. "About the blade burning anyone who touched it? How do you explain that?"

"An excellent question," Fell stood up. "Would you permit me to provide an answer?"

Damon swallowed. This couldn't be good.

"After my son told me about his visit to the station, I did some research of my own."

Yeah, definitely not good.

"Professor Atticus Shane gave me a very helpful overview of Classics and mythology. Sheriff Forbes, if you wouldn't mind?" he gestured to the projector that had been set up in a corner of the room.

"Exhibit A: the blade of Fionn mac Cumhaill, currently on loan to the British Museum in London."

They all stared at the photograph on the screen.

"It's identical," Liz murmured. "It's the same weapon!"

Fell nodded. "Mr. Salvatore was right about everything – except the symbols. You see, Atticus explained to me how druids were not capable of offensive magic. When public sentiment turned against the occult, muggings were not uncommon. This particular weapon is not unique to the house of Fionn. It's a basic weapon carried by the druids for protection. If their attacker somehow got the upper hand and tried to take the weapon...well, you know what would happen. Next slide."

A shocked gasp rippled through the council chamber. On the projector screen was a very detailed drawing of a man attempting to use the marked blade, and his whole right arm being consumed by flames.

"The blade was tainted – hence the symbols. So only someone with magic could touch it and not be harmed." He turned to the vampire. "I'm sorry Mr. Salvatore. It looks like you've made a very grave mistake. Unless..." A beat,"...that's exactly what you intended."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Damon replied, stiffening his spine and trying not to convey the panic rising in his gut.

"If it was one instance, maybe one could look past it," Mr. Fell continued as though he hadn't spoken. "But, it occurs to me now that, over the past three years, you have consistently quashed every lead we've left you to investigate."

All eyes were on Damon now, nausea churning in his belly as he felt suddenly exposed.

"I didn't _do_ anything," he insisted. "The trail went cold. Or didn't pan out."

"That's what you _told_ us. But then, you also just told us how that knife was nothing to do with magic. And that was a lie."

"It wasn't a lie."

"It wasn't?"

"No."

"You didn't deliberately try to mislead us?"

"What reason would I have to?"

"Then how do you explain such a gross oversight?"

"My source evidently got it wrong."

"Oh yes?" Mr. Fell's tone was patronizing and made Damon feel like that little boy who was constantly chastised by his father.

"Do you make a habit of using unreliable sources, Mr. Salvatore? I mean, how many trails might have 'gone cold' because you dismissed them based on false information?"

Damon felt his throat close up as he realized how infinitely trapped he'd somehow become.

"I don't know which is worse - incompetence or cowardice," Mr. Fell continued. "Either way, it seems clear to me, you have no interest in destroying these abominations. And if that's the case, you do not belong on this council."

He paused, letting that last thought sink in. Murmurs of shock and disappointment rippled through the assembly. Even Liz was eyeing him suspiciously.

"I feel, given the current state of things, I have no choice," Mr Fell declared, ready to deliver the final nail in the coffin. "I call for a vote of no confidence and the removal of Damon Salvatore from his position as Head Council, effective immediately.

XXXX

"**Oww!"**  
Damon yelped embarrassingly, as Bonnie smacked him sharply upside the head.

"_'Rescue your cute ass?'_" her malachite orbs were practically spitting green fire. "Hear me well, Salvatore. The only context in which you'll have leave to discuss _my ass_, is with the utmost reverence and respect."

"Well then. Take me to church, baby."

This time the smack came from Sheila, who was perched elegantly on the sofa in the Salvatore's' living room. Damon glared at his brother, who wasn't doing a good job of hiding his snicker, and helped himself to a glass of bourbon. He downed it in one, relishing the burn.

"You got enough for the rest of the class?" the elder witch asked.

Damon was surprised but passed the bourbon along, secretly impressed by the way Sheila held her liquor.

"Bad day?" he ventured.

"You first."

So they exchanged their respective tales.  
Naturally, Damon went off at Bonnie about deigning to trust Tristan again. And not about to be outdone, the young girl gave back as good as she got. The argument would likely have continued if not for Sheila's intervention, ordering the both of them to get over themselves and shut up.

Damon pouted – he would later deny this – and Bonnie sulked. Until Stefan tactfully turned the conversation back to what happened at the council meeting.

"Jonathan Fell is now head of the council," Damon said, getting fired up all over again. "What's worse, those idiots voted to give him executive power."

"Which means...?"

Damon ran a frustrated hand through his hair. An action Bonnie could never recall seeing him do.

"Usually, the council needs to reach a consensus before taking any kind of action. But now, Fell doesn't need to consult the rest of us. He can do whatever the hell he wants."

Sheila sighed. "They're scared. It's natural that they'd feel comforted by someone who appears decisive and capable of getting things back under control."

"How can you defend a guy who wants to launch Salem Witch Trials: The Sequel?" Damon ranted.

"Jonathan has been through a lot. More than most. As much as I don't like it, I can't blame him for feeling the way he does," Sheila's expression hardened, "which is why I need to end this thing quickly. Too many people stand to get hurt."

Bonnie nodded. "So what's the plan?"

Sheila turned to face her granddaughter. "The _plan_ is for you to go to school, practice your magic, and keeping working on a way to destroy the moonstone. _I'll_ take care of the rest."

The minute she uttered the words, Sheila knew she was in for a fight. Bonnie's hands were tense. Curling into fists then releasing to repeat the action a second later.

"I know you're trying to shield me," she tried to keep her voice level, not wanting to lose her temper. "You think it's your job to wrap me up and keep me safe from the world."

"No," Sheila broke in gently, "it's my job to make you _ready_ for the world. And you aren't yet, not for this."

"Grams—"

"Baby, I know I've made a lot of mistakes before. But I'm right in this," her gaze implored Bonnie. "Let me handle things, my way," her eyes traced the triskelion necklace Bonnie wore. "If I can't, you'll finish the job."

Sheila left soon afterwards. But Damon had Bonnie stick around ostensibly to check through the Salvatore library in case there was something that could help.

She was sprawled on the sofa floating a copy of Giuseppe Salvatore's journal above her and recreating the scenes described on the pages with figures made of smoke. She looked half asleep.

Damon dropped onto the sofa next to her, lifting her feet and placing them in his lap. He waved his hand through the smoke version of Giuseppe and the figure disappeared.

"If only that had worked in real life," he said, his voice still bitter with obvious resentment towards his late father.

Her eyes snapped open, their irises still bright gold. "Sorry," she murmured. "I'm kind of...wired at the moment."

That was putting it mildly.  
With everything that had happened in the last twenty four hours, her magic seemed to be in overdrive. Her mind was like an engine, racing out of control. She could practically feel every cell in her body vibrate, thrumming with electricity; currents running from the top of her head to the very tips of her fingers and toes. "I needed to burn off some energy."

"You should have said," he leered. "I'd happily help you let off some steam. It'd be my _pleasure_."

With a twitch of her eyebrows, Bonnie sent Damon toppling off the couch, landing in a very ungracious face plant.

"I think I'm in love," he dragged himself back up into a seated position, with a little more effort than it should have taken a vampire of his years. "And we haven't even gotten to the good stuff."

The witch wrinkled her nose. "Damon, please stop giving me mental images that I can't unsee."

He started playing with her hair.

"Say what you like, Judgey. But we both know you're not that averse to the idea of you and me."

The words were meant to be playful but the memory of their kiss suddenly loomed large in the small space between them. He looked down at the onyx curl twisted lightly around his forefinger. Then looked back up to meet her eyes. He could hear the pounding in her blood.

Damon recognized exactly what was shuddering in the air between them – knowledge, understanding, intense attraction. "Bonnie," he murmured thickly. She held his gaze.

"I know, Damon," her voice was barely a breath. "I feel it too."

Something inside his chest unknotted itself at her admission. He wanted to kiss her. Wanted to lean in and claim her mouth for his own. But staring into her glittering emerald eyes, he heard what else she was saying.

It wasn't time.

There were too many other things she was caught up with; she couldn't begin to work out where he'd fit in all that. And he was demanding. He'd want all of her. But right now, all of her was more than she could give. And she didn't want him to settle for anything less. She would _never_ ask him to settle.

Damon didn't know how he understood all this, when she hadn't uttered a word, but instinctively he did. And from the look in her eyes, she knew that he did too.

This time, Bonnie was the one to shift forward, leaning their foreheads against each other; breath passing between them; from her lips to his.

"You know I ended things with Elena."

"I do."

"Did you wonder if I did it because of you?" They were so close, his breath blew a strand of hair from her throat.

"I _hoped _you did it _for you_."

Damon smiled then – not his usual mocking smile either. His icy blue eyes warmed in such a way, it took a lot more strength than she thought to gently pull away.

"So," his hand trailed idly up her arm. He seemed to be enjoying the warm flush of her skin. "Are you going to tell me the real reason you asked me to stay behind?"

Damon flopped back against the sofa. His expression sobered, the mood shifting between them once more.

"I think you should get out of town for a few days."

"What? _What?"_ she was sputtering in her indignation and Damon couldn't hide an amused smirk at her uncharacteristically inarticulate response.

After all, this was the girl who gave him a verbal dressing-down on a somewhat daily basis. Wonders never ceased.

"I want you to take a little more interest in self-preservation," he met her eyes evenly.

She pushed her hair behind her ears with a huff of frustration.

"Damon, I'm perfectly capable of-"

"This isn't about your capabilities," he cut in. "Fell is on the warpath and there's bad juju afoot – too much of it centred on you. Saltzman was your teacher, Andrea Philips, your neighbour. How long do you think it'll take the council to come sniffing around, once they realise the only common link between them is _you_?"

Vampires didn't really need breath, but Damon's chest was heaving with exertion and urgency. He needed to make her understand.

"I've seen what happens when men let panic and fear overwhelm them, Bonnie. I just think it wouldn't hurt to steer clear of the firing line. Just until the dust settles. And it's not like we'd have to be holed up in some stuffy motel room," he added.

"_We_?"

"Naturally, I'd go with you," Damon looked dubious at the idea that she'd consider any alternative. "We can take a trip. Go anywhere you want. And we'll take MasterCard and Visa."

Bonnie stared at him. While it wasn't something that would have ever crossed her mind a few months ago, she knew he was speaking out of concern. And she could acknowledge that there was some truth to what he said. But now she needed him to acknowledge certain truths about her.

"I get that you're looking out for me but, if you know anything about me, it's that I don't walk away. I can't, Damon. If someone's in trouble and there's something I can do about it, then I'm going to. Whatever happens afterwards."

He went to argue the point, but she climbed off the couch and pulled him up by the hand. "It's almost 8. Since you made me stay, you'd better be fixing me dinner. I'm starving."

Damon knew she was trying to shut him up on the subject, but he couldn't be too pissy about her methods as she led him to the kitchen. Bonnie hadn't just taken off like he'd half expected, but invited herself for dinner instead.

He watched her use magic to chop onions and prepare the sauce, various utensils and ingredients weaving about in a carefully choreographed dance, and thought on their conversation in the library.

Bonnie never backed down from a fight. She just wasn't wired that way. It made her a pain in the ass...

He playfully tossed some flour at her while he prepped the breadcrumb mixture. She retaliated by whipping the dish towel at him.

...but it was also one of the best things about her.

XXXX

**Sybilla Sable had always known that she would be around when **_**their**_** world ended and the renaissance could begin.**  
Because, well, she'd made a deal for immortality and there was little alternative. However, it was one thing for it to happen and quite another to actually be the one doing the work to bring it about. Tonight though, she glanced round at the cocktail dresses and designer suits. _Tonight_, she was one step closer to her goal.

All of high society in Mystic Falls was out tonight, congratulating each other on their pomposity, sipping their Beaujolais as they circled each other in the Lockwood ballroom. A nest of vipers.

It amazed her that she and her kind were considered 'evil'. Because no curse, no spell, nothing any witch could think up, was half as bad as the stuff they thought up themselves and the generalized nastiness people committed against each other on a daily basis.

Sheriff Forbes walked up, flapping her jaws about the police detail she'd set up all along the perimeter of the manor. Bit of extra security given recent events. She could have some fun with that.

Carol Lockwood moved to the centre of the room, calling the attention of her guests as she prepared to make the key address. Sybilla took that as her cue and moved quickly through the crowd, the target exactly where she expected it to be.

She slipped from the room. By the time Carol had finished her anecdote about an amusing trip to Cadiz, there was a burst of firing from the grounds.

XXXX

_In my dream, I was a moth drawn to a bright flame. And then I saw an entire world on fire._

**The last time Sheila had a dream like that, had been right before Abby's death.** So she knew it was a warning. And that was why she had insisted, despite Bonnie's protests and grumblings, that they attend Carol Lockwood's charity gala at the manor on Wednesday evening.

Neither time nor tide stopped for that woman's dinners.  
Not even two murders and suspicions of a witch in town. Liz however, had insisted on the extra security detail with orders to pick up anyone unfamiliar or suspicious. Not that they would stand a chance against a maleficus, but she appreciated the other woman's prudence.

Sheila scanned the ballroom. Her granddaughter stood between Caroline and Elena, nodding absently at whatever the latter was saying. Bonnie looked very pretty in her form fitting, midnight blue mini dress. Dark blue lace covered the entire thing, extending up to her shoulders and down her arms to form elbow length sleeves. But she didn't look happy.

They'd been at this shindig for three hours and the most interesting thing to happen was Logan Fell giving the Heimlich manoeuvre to an unfortunate old lady that choked on the hors d'oeuvres. Though from the way the old cougar had eyed Logan afterwards, Sheila was inclined to believe she'd done it on purpose.

Carol started giving her speech. She had just finished her opening anecdote when Sheila felt _it_. Knew what it signified. A moment later, the sound of bullets firing broke out across the Lockwood's lawn.

The witch was brazen. Deliberately hinting at her presence.

There was another surge of magic, powerful enough that Sheila almost keeled over. Not that anyone noticed with the gathered party running for the exits in a panic. She managed to find Bonnie's gaze. Understanding passed between the two witches. The younger girl nodded and Sheila took off, hot on the trail of the powerful aura she'd sensed.

This bitch was going down. _Tonight._

XXXX

**Things happened very quickly.**

Bonnie threw up an illusionary spell to keep everyone calm and inside the manor. Then she headed outside to find that Sheriff Forbes's officers had opened fire...on each other.

She had to go back in and pull Damon out of the illusion. She needed him to use his compulsion to break whatever whammy the officers were under.

The two of them sank down in the rhododendron bushes. Bonnie flinched as a further burst of bullets took out the rather ugly stained glass of the front door and the statue beside them lost an ear.

"What the fuck is happening?" Damon grumbled. But he worked his compulsion with Bonnie giving it an extra psychic boost.

The hail of bullets stopped and the officers were led to believe they'd opened fire on a suspicious stranger fleeing the manor. They began to sweep the grounds accordingly.

Bonnie and Damon walked back into the house. He picked some broken glass out of her hair; she dusted stray rhododendron leaves off his shirt.

He poured two flutes of champagne while Bonnie chanted under her breath and the illusionary spell broke.

Standing next to Damon now, Bonnie accepted the crystal flute. Carol Lockwood continued making her speech against gun violence. No-one seemed to notice the fresh row of bullet holes stitched into the pillar behind her.

The witch and vampire clinked glasses. You gotta love this town.

XXXX

**Sheila ran into the gardens and down the path that led through the beds and shrubs.**  
It was darker there, illuminated only by the moon and the landscape lighting – accent up-lights and copper path lights. As she neared the lavender bushes that lined the outside wall the air began to grow thick with the incense of opium, hashish and other herbs more dangerous still, chosen to derange the mind.

"We're finally alone."

Invisible fingers wrapped around her throat and she was flung against the wall. Ignoring the way her muscles screamed in protest, she got to her feet on legs that were only slightly shaky.

"You wanted my attention, you got it. But the shower of bullets was a bit much."

"Officer Jonas had an itch to scratch. He _wanted_ to fire. Every desire in his head was to pull that trigger. I just assisted him."

"So you turned him loose on his own officers!" said Sheila.

"Oh, no. Not exactly. Fair's fair," her opponent finally stepped from the shadows.

Jonathan Fell.

"The way I see it," his voice was as suave as ever, "no-one _has _to pull the trigger. They're doing it themselves. You know well enough how easily humans are tempted when they're afraid or desperate."

The stunned fog in Sheila's mind took just a moment to clear. Then she realized exactly what was happening.

"There are people out there shooting one another!" her eyes scanned over his well cut suit, scarily observant eyes and cool predatory smile. It was definitely Jonathan Fell. But something was wrong, was _missing_. His aura was...

"They're nothing to yell about," he reached behind him and dragged something out of the lavender bushes.

Sheila stared at him, shocked beyond even reacting as he kicked the body of Matt Donovan towards her.

The boy was bleeding from invisible wounds. But he was still alive. She could hear his choppy breathing, painful gurgling as his lungs filled with blood.

"Matt, it's Sheila," she leaned over him. "It's alright, just hold on," his eyes were starting to roll backwards into his head. "Mattie! Keep looking at me!"

"I wouldn't bother," Mr. Fell said with leisurely disinterest. "He's about two pints away from becoming an organ donor."

"You monster! He's an innocent boy!"

"Then try to protect him if you really care for him."

Sheila barely had time to react shifting to shield Matt and only just blocking Fell's attack.

The explosion shuddered through her bones. Part of the outside wall had been blown away. She was bleeding, but she was still upright. Eyes flashing gold, the Bennett witch summoned the wrath of thunder and lightning into the palms of her hands. She fired them at Mr. Fell but he countered with his own spell. Tendrils of black smoke were growing around him, creating a protective shield. He met her lightning with a spray of violet light.

Sheila could feel a painful throbbing in her temples as the man started hammering on her defences. Her arms were starting to burn from the effort of sustaining her attack while fending off his and she was nearly blinded by the force of their combined spells.

"_What in the hell...? What's happened to this wall?"_

They could hear the voices of Sheriff Forbes's officers. They sounded close by.

Abruptly, Fell stopped his attack and Sheila was knocked back from the sudden rebounding of energy. It was a distraction she couldn't afford, as Fell hurled a dagger at Matt's prone form, the blade landing in his back.

"No!" Sheila cried. But it was too late. Jonathan Fell uttered some gibberish and then disappeared in a puff of smoke.

"Is someone there?" That sounded like Liz.

"Over here!" Sheila called out. "We need help!"

She pulled the dagger from Matt's back, cursing at the blood that spilled from the wound. She tried to use a healing spell, but it was taking a little more effort than usual. She turned him over with shaking hands and lips white with rage.

A moment later, three, glowing white lights appeared. Flashlights.

Sheriff Forbes and two of her officers hurried down the garden path.

"Jesus Christ," one of the men, the younger of the two, looked at the scene in shock.

"He's still alive, but barely," Sheila informed them.

"Call for a bus," Liz commanded the elder officer, quickly taking stock of the situation and acting accordingly.

While the other officer radioed it in, Sheila went to offer some version of the truth for how she came to be there.

But Liz was not listening. Instead, her gaze was fixed on the dagger in Sheila's hand. Her face turned white, eyes wide in growing alarm.

A gun cocked.

"Liz...?" Sheila's eyes looked wounded and shocked as the sheriff aimed the firearm at her.

"You're holding a tainted druidic blade," Liz managed to say. "It's not normal for a person to be able to hold that."

The elder Bennett felt a chill come over her as her mind began to process everything. Her throat closed momentarily and she couldn't form any remotely lucid word.

She'd fallen right into the cheap trap.

"Drop the weapon, Sheila. You're going to have to come with me."

**TBC**

* * *

**AN 2:** So Grams has been exposed, Jonathan Fell/Sybilla got away and what of poor Matt's fate? Will Tristan help or hinder Bonnie? This chapter was a monster to write: lots of things happening, several characters to juggle. I hope I managed to do justice to them all.

Speaking of which, I'm really enjoying writing the Mikaelsons and hope you like my version of them. They are villainous bastards, but they've got style. I also wanted them to be distinct from the broody, angst-ridden Salvatore brothers. To be sure, they have their own issues when it comes to family – but the Mikaelsons are older and wiser, with a better handle on and understanding of their immortality. So they don't let those issues stop them from having a good time and enjoying eternity lol!

See you next chapter. Reviews are loved .


	27. Zugzwang

**Author's note: **Apologies for the extended wait! I've been away and had some internet connectivity issues so it took me a little longer to get this one up. To everyone reading, favouriting and following this story, thank you for your support! I continue to be humbled and amazed by the response to this fic.

_Special thanks to:_** babyshan211**_, _**DancesWithButterflies**_, _**isisles5**_, _**freckled98**_, _**StarrDust13**_, _**BBsQueen**and all the **Guests **who took the time to review the last chapter. I've loved hearing from you! Thank you for your words and for sharing your thoughts with me.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own TVD or anything affiliated with the show. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

23

**ZUGZWANG**

_Mystic Woods stretched out to the west, with a scattering of lights to mark the slumbering town at its border. A soft breeze napped the cloak of the slim figure moving through the trees. A few minutes later Sybilla stood beneath the old tower; all that remained of the witches' house. Flanking the tower was a young hazel tree. Now the witch nodded to it. She chanted under her breath. Satisfied, Sybilla passed into the old tower. A fire blazed in the hearth that no-one had lit. A tub steamed with scented water that no-one had drawn. Shapes that were not real and barely seen flitted about. One removed the witch's garments, another anointed her, one fetched clean clothes and ornaments, another began to bathe her and tend to her wounds._

_Sybilla sighed as she relaxed into the water, allowing her familiar demons to attend to her. That was the trouble with sharing half of a person's soul – you share all the damage they take. And the Bennett witch had fought hard. But the night was not over yet. Sybilla closed her eyes and began to chant. She had work to do..._

The door to the cell swung open on rusty hinges. Sheila did not look up at the sound of footsteps drawing closer, her eyes fixed on the inverted pentagram and Celtic runes scratched on the floor beneath her – a seal against her magic, to keep her restrained.

A pair of dark, polished Ferragamo loafers came into view.

"Hello again, Sheila."

She didn't respond.

"Careful now. If you don't speak up, I may lose interest in you."

"I have nothing to talk about with you."

He smiled. "I'm not here to make you talk. I'm here to make you sing."

Sheila finally raised her head to meet the gaze of her interrogator, Jonathan Fell.

"You misunderstand," she spoke without fear. Her eyes now the hue of reddish-golden amber. "I have nothing to say to _you_. My business is with the one on the other side of your soul."

_Sybilla's eyes snapped open. Her lips curved in a sly smile. "Volente Deo. Audio."_

"We meet at last," when Jonathan Fell spoke this time, it was in a voice different from his own. "I'm a little disappointed. There was a time when just the chant of Sheila Bennett's name could set fire to water. Now, to be so easily undone," he tsked. "Your love of the humans has made you weak. You've forgotten yourself."

"And what about you?" Sheila said. "Have you fallen so low that you would willingly grovel and serve at the feet of a vampire?"

"Do not question my loyalties," The words were spoken calmly. But his eyes were terrible, luminous with rage. "I served the only true master. I served him well. I serve him still."

Grams was filled with an icy melancholy. Her heart thudding in heavy hammer strokes she asked, "What do you want from me?"

_Sybilla scoffed._

"A foolish question, Sheila." Jonathan crossed to the small table, the only other piece of furniture in the room. When he stood before her again he held a small box made of hazel. "You stand between me and the recovery of something for which I care with all the depth I am capable of mustering. A relic; remarkable in ways that you cannot imagine. You're going to tell me where it is. And you're going to convince your granddaughter to use it. I will do whatever is necessary to get what I want. Do you understand me so far?"

Jonathan released the lid on the box. A small, thin black serpent wound its way out curling around his wrist. Sheila swallowed.

"I see you recognise the nathair," He grinned, "Capable of causing unspeakable pain not to the victim's body, but to their soul."

Sheila's spine stiffened. Her eyes blazed. She raised her chin proudly.

"Waste your time with me if you want," her voice was firm and clear as a bell. "I won't help you. I'm not telling you a damn thing."

Jonathan Fell eyed the serpent coiled around his wrist. "Maybe you'll break, maybe you won't..." he lifted his eyes to meet her fiery gaze."...but Bonnie will."

Sheila's heart plummeted to her stomach as Jonathan Fell continued speaking.

"In a few minutes, two officers are going to fetch your granddaughter and bring her here."

"On what grounds?" Sheila spat. "You may have been able to entrap me. But you've no proof that Bonnie is anything to do with this!"

Jonathan crouched so he was eye level with Sheila. The nathair continued to hiss from its perch on his wrist. "This is not a court of law. I'm head of the council and the council is satisfied that the evidence of your transgression is enough: she shares your name, she's of your blood – she must share your dark gifts. And for your purposes, that's really all that matters."

"So," he stood up, "I will torture Bonnie until you give in. Or, I will torture you until she does. She's powerful, yes. But she's still green. How long do you think she'll be able to stand the screams of her grandmother when she witnesses the power of the nathair?"

He looked at Sheila in obvious challenge. "The only way for you to influence this situation is to give me what I want, right now. And deny me the pleasure of extracting it myself."

The Bennett witch remained stoic.

"You won't get Bonnie," she said coolly.

"You think she would just abandon you to torment and death?"

"She's smarter than that."

Jonathan nodded graciously; the polite gesture a mockery of civility. "Then I know your desire. It's a comfortless wish. You ask for pain."

_Sybilla grinned, the honest, open grin that goes with job satisfaction, perfect and pure. "I will grant what you ask."_

XXXX

Caroline dropped two quarters in the machine and pushed the sticky button. Waited.

"Oh come on," she complained when nothing happened. Frustrated, she slammed her fist against the drinks machine, so hard she felt like she might have fractured her metacarpals.

_Ha!_ Maybe that would finally get her mother to talk with her for two minutes.

The machine sputtered and hiccupped before spitting out the little paper cup. Caroline watched the dark liquid dribble into the cup. Her blonde locks had long ago lost their curl, now shiny and flat. Her eyes were red rimmed, mascara smudged.

She had come to the station looking for her mother. After what happened at the manor and then the hospital...Caroline felt her breath catch, her heart in her throat at the thought of Matt.

Bonnie had refused her or Elena's company. Tyler needed to go back to the manor, to be with his mother. Then Damon disappeared soon afterwards, which put Stefan and Elena in a panic over what he might get up to. Caroline left them to it. She had no interest in trying to police the elder Salvatore.

So she went to see Liz, only to be told to wait because Sheriff Forbes was "in the middle of something".

She'd been waiting half an hour now.

"_Hot damn,"_ two officers exited a room and were making their way down the corridor towards her. _"Are we sure about this? She's just a kid."_

The footsteps stopped. They were less than a foot away but they didn't notice her.

_"She's not a kid, Teller,"_ the second officer spoke. _"She's a human grenade. You saw what the other Bennett bitch did to us. I don't wanna see what this one's capable of when it's all grown up. We're picking her up._ _Cassidy and Ramirez will follow us and hang back. Just in case there's any..."_

Their voices trailed off as they rounded the corner, reaching the main squad room.

Caroline was dull with terror, floating in a syrupy sea of dread. Drums pounded in her veins. She barely noticed when the contents of her purse spilled across the floor, her urgency too great. Her hand finally closed around her phone and with trembling fingers she pressed call.

XXXX

Damon relished the burn of the amber liquid as it slid down his throat. It wasn't bourbon, but Sheila did keep a very nice brandy. The Bennett matriarch would probably roast his nuts if she found him here, making himself at home on her sofa, raiding her liquor cabinet.

Well tough.

Because she wasn't here.

His brow furrowed. It was an odd moment for Sheila to go AWOL and leave Bonnie alone.

_Bonnie._

His eyes strayed to the framed picture in his lap: the girl, who was lately at the centre of many of his thoughts, smiled widely with her arms around the blonde boy, his blue eyes shining with mirth as they shared a private joke.

Matt Donovan was dead.

His finger traced the curves of Bonnie's smile. Elena and Caroline had been distraught; Stefan looked deeply troubled, as he always did, when reminded of the fragility of mortal life.

But Bonnie...she hadn't shed a tear.

Hadn't said a word. Except to refuse any kind of comfort or company. She'd gone to leave another message for Kelly Donovan and then walked away numbly.

That's what worried Damon.

She'd barely acknowledged him when he burst into the Bennett home, without any warning, a short while later. He'd wanted her to cry, yell, scream. Hell, he'd have been happy for her to give him an aneurysm at that point.

But she had not done any of those things, just listened to him rant, as something inside seemed to be tearing her apart. But he couldn't begin to understand what.

She'd refused food and refused drink. She'd refused to go to bed or change clothes. Finally, when it became clear he wasn't leaving, she'd just left him alone in her living room.

And so he waited.

A sudden buzzing against his side snapped him back to the present moment. He rubbed his forehead between his fingers and thumb then pressed talk.

"What is it, Stefan? I know you've got no life to speak of without me to keep you entertained, but now really isn't—"

"I'm calling about Bonnie," his brother cut in sharply. "No-one's been able to reach her."

"We're at Sheila's place," Damon said slowly. Something was wrong. He could hear it in his brother's voice. "What's happened?"

"Caroline overheard some officers at the station. Sheila's been arrested and," there was a painful pause, "Damon, they're coming for Bonnie."

His mouth went dry. His heart lurched.

"Damon? Damon? Are you still there?!"

"I have to go."

"Damon what are you—"

He ended the call.  
In three quick strides he'd climbed the stairs and then entered Sheila's study. Bonnie was sitting in the leather armchair, her Grimoire open on her lap. She was shivering a little bit but barely seemed aware of it.

"Bonnie," he said thickly, pulling her up into his arms. She was warm and soft and _safe_. His arms were tight and needy.

She jerked out of his grip and started to make a surprised exclamation.

Damon covered her mouth with his hand.

"I'm sorry," he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "I don't have time to do this gently. We need to get out of here now."

The words had barely left his mouth when there were two sharp knocks on the front door.

"_Law enforcement, open up!"_

Damon held up a hand for Bonnie to stay put. He moved to spy out the front-facing window.

"_Miss Bennett? This is Officer Teller with the Sheriff's department. We received a call about some disturbance in the neighbourhood. We just want to make sure you're doin' alright. Could you please open up?"_

"Shit." He felt himself shifting into crisis-mode – every sense attuned and his mind working at lightning speed.

Bonnie stiffened but something in his tone and actions must have started to penetrate the fog.

"The back stairs," she spoke at last. Her voice sounded strange, shrill. "It leads to the kitchen. We can get out that way."

Damon nodded. One hand in Bonnie's, he silently opened the study door and pulled her out onto the landing. She had no idea what was going on, but she had to assume that the officers at her door shouldn't be there.

Suddenly, there was a loud crack! The front door nearly came off its hinges as the wood splintered. Two officers stood in the front hallway, their guns raised.

"Go!" Damon shoved her in the direction of the back stairs. There was a rush of air as he disappeared from her side, only to materialize in front of the Sheriff's men.

Bonnie didn't have a choice.

She could hear the sound of the fight taking place as she clamoured down the stairs, stumbled into the kitchen and then out the kitchen door into the garden.

"Stop right there," she heard a click and blinked. A third officer stood leaning casually against the wooden trellis of the garden wall. He waved his gun at her. "Fell said you wouldn't come quietly."

She felt like she was in a deep dark tunnel, not even a glimmer of light in the distance.

"I don't want to hurt you," she managed to say through the thick haze.

His eyes crawled over her in distaste. He sneered. "You don't have what it takes."

"But _I_ do."

All the air left her lungs as she watched the man's head twist round unnaturally. There was a sickening snap.

Klaus carelessly tossed the man's severed head next to his body. Blood soaked the ground.

"Bonnie," he inclined his head towards her, his expression emotionless. His eyes, however, were a dark amber, cold and promising a painful death. "What did I tell you about hesitating?"

Her breath caught. "He was a civilian..." was her soft argument.

The kitchen door swung open and Damon sauntered out, not a hair out of place except for a large, dark stain on his collar. His eyes widened for a moment as he took in the scene in front of him.

"You had company," Klaus appraised the fresh blood on the vampire's shirt. "It's taken care of?"

The grin he flashed Klaus looked very disturbing to Bonnie. "It's done."

"You killed them?" Despite what she'd just witnessed her uncle do, Bonnie was in disbelief.

"It was them or us," His stance was stiff, as if ready to attack again if need be. "I'd do it again."

Bonnie resisted the urge to put a frustrated hand through her hair.

"You can argue later," Klaus spoke calmly. "Right now we need to move."

"What about the bodies?"

"No time for that. The cavalry's already here."

Klaus grabbed her arm and broke into a run. Bonnie ran too. Not that she had much choice. She could never have freed herself from the werewolf's powerful grip.

Damon followed as Klaus led them to the Jaguar that was parked next to the Bennett house. A bullet shattered the back windshield.

Bonnie shrieked as she scrambled into the back passenger seat of Klaus's car, Damon clambering in after her and slamming the door.

After another second, he knocked into her, pushing her down against the backseat while he was pretty much on top of her now.

Klaus, in the driver's seat, had already shifted into gear. "Stay down," he commanded curtly and floored the gas pedal as gunshots continued to go off, shattering the quiet of the night. The Jaguar roared to life and veered out onto the road.

"How the hell are they on us so fast?" Damon exclaimed. He had to speak loudly because the wind was rushing through the shattered window.

"I assume they had reinforcements lying in wait should the first attempt at extraction fail," Klaus gripped the wheel and turned left onto the main road out of town.

Damon peeked out the back and saw that they were being pursued by a dark green SUV. Thankfully, no-one was hanging out the side pointing guns at them as he'd half expected.

"They've stopped shooting at us," he said.

"Your powers of observation are remarkable," Klaus said cuttingly, although he didn't take his eyes off the road.

Bonnie shoved Damon off, getting back into a seated position. Unfortunately, Klaus chose that moment to make another perilous turn sending her barrelling into the vampire once more. He was speeding up on the on-ramp to the highway and she watched, horrified as he took one hand off the wheel to dig out his cell phone. He thrust it at her.

"Press talk and hand it back to me," he said brusquely. She did as he asked and then listened as he barked out a series of orders to whomever he was talking to. Bonnie struggled to follow everything he was saying, but the point seemed to be to have a plane ready for him tomorrow morning, at a private airstrip.

"What do you need a plane for?" Damon demanded, beating her to the punch.

Klaus looked like he was about to let loose a long tirade, but the situation on the road distracted his attention. The Jaguar was trapped behind a tanker. It was in the passing lane trying to get past a semi truck. They were effectively caught between the two vehicles with no way to pass either. And the SUV was gaining on them. They were trapped.

Or should have been.

Klaus stepped on the gas and edged between the tanker and the semi – where there was clearly no lane to drive in.

Bonnie squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable crunch of metal as the Jaguar was crushed between the two much larger vehicles. It never came. The truck swerved over onto the shoulder. Both drivers blared their horns. But Klaus had pulled past them. Unfortunately, so had the SUV. It had managed to go in the Jaguar's wake.

The werewolf accelerated until he was going at least 50mph over the speed limit. Bonnie stole a glance in the rear view mirror. The SUV was persistent, still right on their tail. Klaus was just managing to stay ahead of them. But they needed to lose them.

She kept her eyes trained on the SUV in the rear view mirror. Beside her, she was vaguely aware of Damon cursing as Klaus made another turn, picking up speed at the same time, almost flipping the car. Her eyes began to burn, but she refused to blink; unwilling to lose sight of their pursuers for even a moment.

She became aware of a throbbing in her temples. A presence like a cool heat, invisible, untouchable, passed through her. The faces of Matt, Grams, Mr. Saltzman, seemed to swim in a red haze in front of her. But she herself felt forgotten. Only anger remained with her, though anger was nameless now, limitless and inexplicable.

Bonnie blinked. Saw spots of yellow and red.

The SUV flew up into the air. It flew across the vacant field, weightless as a feather, spinning, tumbling.

Damon turned slowly to look at her. She knew what he would see.

Crimson eyes with gold irises.

A witch, a vampire, a demon, a god.

XXXX

_Ding!_

The bell tolled.

_Ding!_

At the ninth and tenth knell, the strength of the malediction seemed to curdle her blood. Sheila shivered and her brain writhed.

_Ding!_

At the twelfth knell, she beheld a thing in a ragged black cowl and robe. It grinned at her below a triangle of sockets of nose and eyes.

Sheila screamed-  
And woke as if she had been flung upward through the floor.

_"Ah," said a voice._ _"Go back-"_ and something struck Sheila across the cheek.

Cast from fear into fear, she was flung down again and a black, dank shadow seemed to eat up the room. She fell at once into a deathlike and unbroken sleep.

XXXX

Bonnie was awakened by a phone ringing.

She sat up in bed with a jerk, trying to orient herself, wondering where the hell she was. Looked around at the elegantly furnished room and familiar carved mouldings.

The Brotherhood of the Three Graces. _Of course._

But there was one, small difference compared to the last time she'd woken up here. A certain vampire was currently wearing a hole in the carpet while he paced, speaking in low, harsh whispers on his phone.

"Someone should wash your mouth out with soap. Then put you over his knee and spank you," She could hear the sneer in Damon's voice. "Where did you learn such language?"

There was a brief pause while the person on the other end said something.

"Precisely. I'm glad we agree on this matter. No more dirty words from you," he replied. Another pause. "She's fine. She's sleeping. When she wants to talk, if she wants to talk, she'll call you. Now I'm gonna go; you're wasting my minutes. And Caroline? Tell Stefan to stop giving out my number to random Scooby gang members. _Or else_."

The words were innocuous enough. But the mention of her friends in Mystic Falls brought everything back that had happened in the last eight hours.

The shootout at Lockwood Manor, Matt, the officers, the chase, the SUV crashing, Klaus getting onto the highway, Mystic Falls disappearing into the distance...

It all felt like a nightmare. Or some sort of drug-induced vision.

Bonnie swayed on her feet, feeling kind of shaky and nauseous. She was vaguely aware of Damon suddenly materialising in front of her, his hands on her waist as he eyed her with concern. But she batted him away.

"I'm fine. I can stand on my own two feet," she said. "What time is it?" It was still dark outside. From what she recalled, the mansion wasn't too far out from Mystic Falls and she couldn't have been asleep long.

"It's just gone 4:00 am." She caught something that almost looked like hurt in his blue eyes.

Bonnie knew it was because she had rebuffed his attempt to comfort her. It wasn't lost on her that Damon had been sitting in the room _with her_, at _her_ _bedside_, while she slept. But her emotions had been buffeted six ways to Sunday in the past few hours and she just didn't have the energy to address it.

"I need to talk to Klaus," she said instead.

Damon followed her silently as she left the room and was a little placated when she didn't pull away from the hand he placed on her back.

But only a little.

They heard the werewolf before they saw him. And it was clear from his brusque, tense tone that he wasn't happy.

"You've trusted me this far and I haven't led you astray. Klaus, be reasonable."

"Be reasonable? Do I have to remind you what's at stake? The solstice is in less than 24 hours."

"We'll have you and Bonnie out of Virginia before then, I give you my word. But if you want to be certain that you can't be traced, it's going to take a little time to put certain measures in place."

"I don't want to hear excuses. Just get it done. And James," the sudden silk of his voice only amplified the underlying danger, "the rewards for success in this are great, but the consequences for failure are staggering."

"What consequences?" Bonnie interrupted, stepping into the study where the two men were arguing.

Her gaze flicked between her uncle and the silver-haired werewolf she recognised as James Dagliesh, leader of the brotherhood. There had to be something particular for Klaus to have called upon him personally.

Under his niece's scrutiny, Klaus immediately schooled his features into his no-nonsense, detached facade. "I'm afraid we've had to delay our flight and will be leaving Virginia later than expected," he said crisply.

Bonnie shrugged. "Just as well. Since I have no intention of going anywhere. Not until I know what the hell is going on."

Klaus glared at her impatiently. "Bonnie love, I've always admired your courage and independence. But at the moment, it is most unhelpful. What we need now is to focus on getting you out of Virginia, preferably out of the States. I'll explain later."

_Wrong answer,_ Damon thought wryly as he watched Bonnie almost choke in her outrage at Klaus's patronizing, superior attitude.

The vampire had made the same mistake with Bonnie, enough times to know what was coming. And despite the seriousness of the situation, he couldn't help but feel a certain amount of gleeful anticipation at the coming fireworks.

"Don't you dare, you domineering bastard," her voice was hard. Cold.

"Two officers showed up at my door and tried to take a shot at me. Grams was arrested! And my best friend," her face twisted painfully. The ache in her chest so terrible, for a moment, Bonnie feared she might be physically sick with it. "My best friend is dead," she choked out through her now burning throat. "Can't you understand what that means?"

"Bonnie..." Klaus looked torn. He took a step towards her. Put his hands on her shoulders.

"No!" She practically yelled into the small space between them, shaking his hands off her. "If this is the part where you say you're sorry, then save it. I don't want your apologies. I don't want you trying to comfort me." Her anger was actually helping her to get control of her emotions. "There's something you need to say to me. So say it!"

Klaus met her eyes evenly. His expression stoic. "Saying things openly does not always make them better. Sometimes it makes them worse."

"I don't care if it makes things worse. Everything is wrong already," Bonnie spit out at him. "But this isn't a negotiation. This isn't a discussion. And these aren't just your decisions to make. Tell me what's going on, Klaus. Don't, and you'll see just how _unhelpful_ I can be."

She paused then, allowing every unpleasant possibility to play through the werewolf's mind.

Damon had been watching her in bewilderment as she reached this ultimatum. Now, something fluttered in his chest, the sensation like no other he'd ever felt before.

The corners of James' mouth tilted in a half-smile. "You truly are your father's daughter." Then he inclined his head towards Klaus. "Well?"

XXXX

Tyler Lockwood stared at the Catwoman poster of Halle Berry taped to his wall. She wasn't the best Catwoman, but he and Matt had always agreed that she was the hottest. His expression crumpled at the thought of his friend. None of it seemed real.

It was almost 4:00 in the morning but his mind was far from sleep. Instead, he was thinking about his deceased friend and counting Catwomen. He rubbed a hand over his face.

And froze.

Something was scratching, tapping at his bedroom window – on the third floor of the mansion.

He climbed out of bed, grabbed the baseball bat from his closet and slowly padded across the room. His heart was pounding painfully now.

Standing before the curtains, he hesitated; switched the bat to his good arm. Then took a steadying breath and yanked the material aside harshly.

"What the hell...?"

He stared dumbfounded at the sight of Stefan Salvatore, crouched precariously on the ledge outside his bedroom. He quickly opened the window.

"Have you lost your mind?" He whispered harshly, not wanting to alert anyone else in the house to his visitor.

"I had no choice," Stefan said seriously. "The grounds are crawling with officers. They wouldn't even let me pass the front gate."

"Dad's had the place on lockdown since what happened at the party," chills shuddered down his spine. "No-one's being allowed on or off the property. I think he was meeting with the council members earlier."

Stefan's expression darkened. His voice was low and tense when he replied. "That's what I need to talk to you about. Sheila's been arrested for witchcraft. And they tried to go after Bonnie too."

Tyler's mouth dropped open stupidly. "She's ok?"

"Damon and Klaus got her out. Barely. But that's as much as I know. My brother hasn't exactly been forthcoming."

"Your brother's an asshole," Tyler said bluntly. He wrinkled his brow, trying to get his thoughts together. "What is it exactly you think I can do?"

"Your uncle. He knew something about all of this. Tyler, if there's anything in his stuff, anything that could help us..."

The boy nodded. He understood the urgency in Stefan's words and knew immediately what was happening. "I don't have Mason's things here. He didn't trust dad. I wasn't sure I did either, so I stashed them. I can show you where."

Stefan glanced down at the grounds. The garden below seemed empty, but the deep shadows from the early morning could be hiding any number of individuals.

"You'll have to sneak out."

Tyler was already pulling on his hoodie and trainers, grabbing his keys. Then he climbed out his bedroom window, joining Stefan on the ledge. The two boys inched along the stone wall until they reached the balcony one window over and climbed over the rail.

"Now what?" Tyler said, peering down at the distance between them and the ground. He eyed the wooden trellis that ran down the wall of the house. It didn't look very sturdy.

"Climb on my back."

"Excuse me?" The vampire could have knocked him over with a feather.

"That trellis is not going to be strong enough to hold our weight. We have to jump," Stefan explained. "You can't make the distance. Unless you want to break every bone in your body. So get on my back."

Tyler wanted to argue, opened his mouth once, twice. Stefan just waited; his expression bland. With a muffled groan of frustration, Tyler gave in and climbed on the vampire's back.

"I swear to God, Salvatore, you breathe a word of this..." His cheeks burned with embarrassment.

Stefan jumped.  
Tyler squeezed his eyes shut as he felt them leave solid ground and the cool air whistled through his ears.

The minute they landed on the grass, an alarm sounded across the grounds. Stefan cursed.

"It's from the house. Let's go," he urged.

They silently ran through the garden and to the old gate at the back. There was nothing but forested area outside the garden. Tyler wondered if they were going to have to trek through the forest. But Stefan just pulled the gate shut behind them and then silently walked into the trees.

The vampire stood and waited, so Tyler stood as well. He understood when a familiar Volvo appeared that must have been waiting there for this very purpose.

"Thank god," Caroline rushed out of the car to greet her boyfriend. "I nearly had a heart attack thinking something had gone wrong when the alarm sounded."

"We're good. It wasn't us," Tyler gave her a quick peck on the lips, his features washed with concern as he took in her pale face and red rimmed eyes. Caroline gratefully leaned into the hand he had cupping her cheek. "Let's get outta here," he added.

The three teens piled into the Volvo and Caroline put the car in drive. They roared out along the beech-hung lane.

"Where are we headed?" She murmured.

"Bacchus and Venus," he said a little awkwardly.

Caroline's eyes widened. "The strip club?"

"It's a gentleman's club. And how do you know about the only strip joint in town, anyway?"

She gave a very unladylike snort. "So not the point." Then her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What are you doing hanging around strip clubs anyway, hmm?"

"I haven't! Chad, from the Grille, took me there. _Once_," Tyler hurried to explain. "And I spent most of the time talking to this bouncer, Ed. Nice guy. So when I needed a place to stash Mason's stuff-"

"The thong of some bottle-blonde bimbo would be the last place anyone would look?" Caroline cut in snidely.

"Guys," Stefan groaned. "Are you really gonna do this now?"

They ignored him.

"Care, I would never cheat on you with some stripper. I would never cheat on you period."

"You better not," she snapped with a toss of her head. "Otherwise I have a pair of pliers and an empty glass jar with your-"

There was a whirr, a scream, and a clunk. The car stopped.

Stefan blinked and gingerly opened the door. "I think you've hit someone," he said.

They got out.

"Uh." From the ditch beside them a voice sounded muzzy.

Stefan and Tyler hurried towards the bracken where they hauled a dazed Sheila Bennett to her feet.

"Oh my god! Grams!" Caroline was frantic. "Are you alright? What are you doing here? I'm so sorry! I didn't have my lights on. I should have had my lights on! But we didn't want to be seen. I guess that part of the plan worked; otherwise I never would have hit you. Oh god! Are you sure you're alright?" she rambled.

"Care, breathe," Tyler placed a soothing hand on his girlfriend's shoulder. Stefan was helping Grams into the front passenger seat. He crouched in front of her.

"Maybe we should take you to a hospital," he was concerned.

Sheila shook her head. "I'm fine. A little bruised perhaps and I think I might have hit my head on something when I fell. But it looks worse than it is."

Stefan wasn't so sure. He could hear her frantic heartbeat. She was trying to stop trembling. Wasn't doing a very good job of it. Her gaze was unfocused and she kept clutching at her temple, as if she were in pain.

"How are you here, Sheila? Caroline heard you were arrested," he said, deciding to put his concerns about her physical well-being to the side, for a moment. If the Bennett matriarch was anything like her granddaughter, she wouldn't take kindly to his fussing.

And then there was this puzzling coincidence. That Sheila should end up on the same stretch of wooded road, in the early hours of the morning, seemed a little strange.

Stefan had his suspicions.  
Tyler said the council members had been meeting with his dad after the party. Right around the time of Sheila's arrest. He doubted they'd want to question her at the station. No, any dealings with witches would have to be off the books. They'd need to hold her someplace else, someplace discreet. The mansion of one of the senior most members of the council and an influential citizen in Mystic Falls was a pretty good bet.

"I guess Fell got tired of interrogating me. Gave some rookie the job," Sheila explained. "He was arrogant and not nearly as fastidious. I saw an opening, I took it."

"You escaped?"

Sheila hesitated, glanced away for a moment. When Stefan managed to catch her gaze, he saw a peculiar expression on her face. He wasn't sure how to interpret it, but it made him feel unsettled.

"I'm just glad both you and Bonnie are alright," Caroline picked up the conversation.

"Bonnie?" Grams eyes pierced theirs with frantic distress; that strange expression immediately replaced by concern. "Where is she? Is she safe?"

"As safe as you can be with Damon Salvatore," the blonde girl said a little bitterly.

Sheila, however, relaxed a little and seemed oddly reassured. "Good...that's...she's not alone, that's good," her words were choppy, disjointed. "Damon will...she's going to need...I wouldn't want her to be alone."

Stefan's brow furrowed even further at Sheila's odd turn of phrase. He didn't have a good feeling about this.

In the distance, he could hear the officers calling to each other; spreading their search out across the grounds.

"We need to get moving," he said finally.

Sheila, who'd been studying invisible shapes over his shoulder, seemed to collect herself at those words.

Her expression cleared and Stefan was taken aback at the way her face was suddenly transformed. Moments before she'd looked lost; something raw and aching in her honey gaze. Now, those same eyes pinned him with startling alacrity.

"Can you take me to Bonnie? I need to see her."

He could almost see her gathering her thoughts, building her resolve. But to do what, that was unclear.

Stefan pressed his lips together into a tight line. "I'll call Damon."

XXXX

"It wasn't always like this," Klaus murmured. They were alone in the study now.

Bonnie looked round at the floor-to-ceiling bookcases. Some open and some compartments with doors that boasted stained glass fronts. She wondered at the histories and tales contained within those shelves.

He handed her a delicate crystal wine glass. "Chȃteau Lafitte. It was Elijah's favourite."

"You're serving alcohol to an eighteen year old?"

Klaus sat down. "I've always found emotional maturity to be completely unrelated to material age."

He held up his own cup of libation and she chinked glasses obligingly. "Magic was once the very fabric of this world," he sipped his wine. "Witches were revered and respected, not as supernatural beings or fantastical tricksters, but prophets and priestesses. They served and honoured the Goddess, Qetsiyah."

"Qetsiyah?" Bonnie tasted the wine. It wasn't unpleasant.

"She was the eldest of five siblings. And so, by divine right, she was given the earth to rule over. Qetsiyah commanded the respect of all who lived in the mortal realm and all the gods who existed in the netherworlds."

Bonnie frowned. "Klaus, I don't understand. What does this have to do with anything? With me?"

He glanced away for a moment, but then caught and held her gaze. There was something so deep in his sea-green eyes that Bonnie immediately lost her breath.

"Answer something for me first," he said. "When you found the moonstone, when you were in that cave, how is it you were able to read it? You have not yet been educated in the language of Norse magic. Know nothing of transfiguration or legilimency. So how did you do it Bonnie?"

Klaus' voice had been getting steadily louder with each word that he hurled at her, like an accusation. Something important was being revealed in his words, she was sure. What she wasn't sure of, was whether she was prepared for it.

"What are you getting at?" She said breathlessly.

"Alright," Klaus took another sip of his wine. "This is the part of the truth that is easiest to handle. The moonstone chose you, Bonnie. You read the stone because it _wanted_ you to. It wanted_ you_."

She gasped. "So what? You're saying I have some kind of psychic connection to the stone now?"

"I'm afraid it's well beyond that. The moonstone chooses its master. Do you understand?"

She gaped at him. Had no idea what to say. She was trembling now, her breath coming out in short gasps. "But...why me?" she managed to get out.

Klaus made an ambiguous gesture. "Who can comprehend the whims of the Goddess' heart?"

Bonnie let out an embarrassing squeak. "What?" she croaked, when her throat started to work again. When her uncle hesitated, she added, "Klaus, I want to know it all."

He met her eyes evenly. "I was misled before, about the true nature of the moonstone. It's her heart," he said matter-of-factly. "The moonstone is Qetsiyah's heart. And you alone have been granted the power to wield it."

"Too much," Bonnie shrieked, covering her ears. "It's too much."

Inexplicably, Klaus started to chuckle. "It's overwhelming, I know. But I did warn you. I told you that knowing would not necessarily make things better."

She peered up at Klaus' bemused face and inquired, "What am I supposed to do? Can we destroy it?"

"No. It is not just Qetsiyah's magic, but her divine essence. You cannot kill a god."

"But Mikael wants to use its power to resurrect Esther. He'll want to use me," she realized. Suddenly her uncle's actions, his hasty plans to have her flee the country, to get beyond Mikael's reach, made sense. "He'll never stop searching for it."

"He won't," Klaus finished his wine.

"Then where does that leave me?"

She thought about everything Klaus had said and what it implied. Could see her future stretch out before her.

What was happening now would be what she'd have to live with for the entirety of her life. Mikael would never stop hunting for her, seeking to manipulate the power she now held. She was locked into a game she had not even realized she was playing. And she could never afford to lose sight of her next move. She would have to constantly be on her guard. And not just from him.

Bonnie choked a little bit.

There would be others looking to take what she had unwittingly gained. And she would have to fight them. Qetsiyah had demanded her servitude, her protection. Bonnie could not let the moonstone's magic be corrupted, be misused. Even if it meant her very selfhood was annihilated by the Goddess' divine power and care.

This was the life she was heading for. Bonnie knew it. _Knew it_.

"Oh god," she groaned, putting a hand to her stomach as she felt her belly start to churn.

Klaus had been watching her anxiously as she came to these realizations. Now his face contorted with concern. "Bonnie, love," he was at her side. Set her still full wine glass safely out of reach and wrapped his arms around her.

"No matter what happens," he said fiercely, "you have me. I will stay beside you. Anywhere you wish me to follow. I will be there."

They sat in silence for a long time. And probably would have done for a good while more if not for the sudden arrival of the dark eyed werewolf, with the cheeky smile.

"I told you we were not to be disturbed, Scotty," Klaus growled.

"I ain't here for my own amusement, Klaus," Scotty huffed. He caught sight of Bonnie and his expression softened. "Oh honey," he murmured. "What's wrong? You look like you might be sick."

"Scotty!" Klaus snapped. He moved to shield her from the other man's view. "Stop ingratiating yourself with my niece. The better to say whatever it is you have to tell me, and then take yourself off as quickly as possible."

Scotty glared at the blonde werewolf. "Are you seriously gonna be mad at me right now?" His nearly black eyes were shining, not the least bit intimidated by Klaus' tactics. "You ain't got no reason to give me shit. I'm just lookin' out for Bonnie. She's a sweetheart and none of us like to see her hurt."

"You're testing my patience, Scotty," Klaus muttered darkly.

"It's okay," Bonnie spoke up. She took a shaky breath and tried to pull herself together. Scotty helped her to her feet – he was too quick for Klaus. She gave him a small smile.

"Thanks, Scotty," she was feeling a little calmer. "What did you want to tell us?"

He looked her in the eye and the faintest hint of a smile began to lift the corners of his mouth. "Your grandmother's here."

XXXX

"What the bloody hell is this?"

Caroline flinched at the werewolf's sharp tone and unconsciously moved a little closer to Tyler. He was pouring coffee for the two of them.

Scotty smiled and offered him a plate. "Crepes?"

Klaus let out a howl of frustration. "Well frankly, this is outrageous."

"It's just breakfast."

Klaus ignored him and turned to Damon, who was seated at the head of the dining room table. "You can't just invite whoever you want along – we're not running a Bed and Breakfast here!"

"Pipe down, Cujo," Damon sounded bored. "They were Stefan's bright idea," he glared at his brother. "I told him to bring Sheila _alone_."

The younger Salvatore sighed. "There wasn't time. They were with me when we found Sheila."

"Besides, Bonnie's my friend," Caroline spoke up, a little braver now that Klaus' ire wasn't aimed at her. "I have more right to be here than _you_ do," she spat at Damon.

"Can it, Barbie," he said cuttingly, sneering again, although his eyes stayed on his brother. "The adults are talking now."

"Hey!" Tyler suddenly squared up to Damon. "Where do you get off thinking you can talk to my girlfriend like that?"

Damon took a threatening step towards the younger boy. "You don't want to play this game with me," he said darkly. Tyler shrank back at the underlying threat.

Relieved that the boy was showing some modicum of sense, Stefan seized the chance to divert his brother's attention. "Damon, I need to talk to you," he said urgently, his eyes darting nervously between Klaus and the others.

The werewolf stared at him, his expression betraying nothing. "I have no interest in your secrets, Mr. Salvatore." He turned to leave the dining room, "I'm going to check on Sheila and Bonnie. Scotty," he paused at the door, "Don't let _them_," he eyed Caroline and Tyler, "out of your sight." Then he was gone.

Caroline swallowed nervously as she watched the dark-haired man. She wasn't entirely comfortable being in a house full of werewolves.

Scotty grinned. "Don't mind him. He's incapable of human interaction. Now," he handed her a plate, "you really should try these crepes."

"We'll be right back," Stefan added, trying to reassure her.

Damon led his brother upstairs and into the bedroom Bonnie had claimed as hers.

"Alright, let's hear it," he said as soon as Stefan had shut the door.

"I'm worried about Sheila."

"That goes without saying," Damon nodded idly. "We all are."

"This is different," Stefan tried to explain. "I'm not so sure she escaped from the council, so much as she was deliberately let go."

That got Damon's attention.

"You think she's some kind of plant? Not a chance," he shook his head. "Bonnie is Sheila's whole world. She would die before ever hurting her."

"Under normal circumstances, yes," Stefan argued. "But not if she's being manipulated."

"Do you have any way of backing these suspicions up?" Damon demanded, feeling like he'd had the rug pulled out from under him.

Stefan's features tensed up – almost like a wince – but he answered his brother. "There's something not right with her. I can _sense_ it."

"Well that's just great," Damon slanted him a quick, impatient look, as if he'd said something foolish. "You want me to tell Bonnie that the person she loves, beyond anything, may be trying to kill her. Based on what? A hunch?!"

Stefan put his hand to his temple as if he had a headache. "No," his voice held more texture than usual. "No, you can't do that."

"_You think_?"

"Fuck," Stefan said with a loud, gusty exhale.

Damon stared at his brother speechlessly, not sure what to make of Stefan's uncharacteristic lack of composure.

Stefan continued, "I hope to God I'm wrong about Sheila," there was a strange sort of urgency in his eyes. "But we can't afford to do nothing if there's a chance I'm right."

They stood for a minute, neither talking. The only sounds in the room floated up from the dining room, where they could hear the low murmurs of conversation and the clinking of breakfast china.

It occurred to Damon, that this was the longest conversation he'd had with his little brother since that whole mess with Elena.

And it was the first time Stefan had actually, voluntarily, sought his confidence since...Hell, he couldn't even say when. Damon wasn't sure how to feel about that.

"Alright," he said at last. "We'll keep an eye on her. But for now, we keep this to ourselves."

Stefan's eyes drew together briefly, as if he couldn't figure out whether Damon was serious or not. "I didn't think you'd..." he trailed off, not wanting to say the words that might shatter the tenuous truce they were attempting.

Damon said them. "You didn't think I'd trust you? I don't. Not fully," his expression looked distant, almost standoffish. Stefan knew better. Knew it was because his brother was revealing something that may make him vulnerable. "I just trust you enough."

XXXX

Sheila splashed cold water on her face. She took a deep breath – so deep she could see the inhale and exhale in her chest as she looked in the mirror – and tried to steel her nerves.

This was the first moment she'd had alone all day. She was either talking, _explaining_, to Bonnie or Klaus. And the Salvatore brothers had been hovering constantly. Sheila knew she had aroused Stefan's suspicions and from the way Damon had been keeping watch over her, he'd voiced his concerns to the elder Salvatore.

Just after lunchtime, She'd finally managed to beg off and escape to the bathroom. Though Damon had half looked like he was about to stand guard at the door while she took care of her lady business. Thank heavens for small mercies.

She dried her hands and moved to check that the coast was clear, when a sharp pain shot through her right temple. Sheila bit her lip to stifle the scream of pain.

The migraine had been getting progressively worse as the afternoon wore on. It was a sign.

Sybilla was getting ready to break through her flimsy defences. She was running out of time.

Sheila took another steadying breath. The pain subsided to a dull throb. She opened the bathroom door and scanned the corridor. It was empty.

She slipped out, hurried to the narrow alcove, then through the door to the stairs that led to the insularium.

Sheila wandered through the vast, windowless room, past tall stoppered vials, from which a pinch of powder dropped into air might burn, another release a sweet perfume. She stopped briefly to pick up the telescope, tilting the instrument at an extravagant angle to check the position of the sun. Then she carried on until she stood beneath the massive chandelier of candles that was let down from the ceiling. It burned like a singular blue cloud.

Sheila kneeled. "_Nine asleep, nine awake. Blood to blood. Thee to me_." Another lancing pain shot through her head, and this time the force of it knocked her onto her hands.

Now she was on all fours as she tried to breathe through the pain. It wasn't just the witch's malediction, it was heartbreak and grief.

A stronger woman than Sheila would not have come looking for Bonnie at all. But she was not so selfless. She'd wanted one more moment with her granddaughter. Wanted to talk with her; to make sure she would be alright. Bonnie had agreed to get out of Virginia, at least until the solstice was over. But she was adamant about not leaving Mystic Falls defenceless if Mikael should retaliate. Sheila had known then that her granddaughter would survive this. Klaus would make sure of that. And even Damon Salvatore may finally choose to fulfil his role as the Bennett line's protector. It was obvious his attachment to Bonnie had grown.

So it was with a slightly less heavy heart that Sheila could go through with her plan. Bonnie would be ok. And she had said goodbye – a chance she never had with Abby.

Sheila dragged herself back into a kneeling position, determined to finish the incantation. "_I do not fear the terror by night; will not be conquered by the pestilence that walks in darkness_," she cupped her hands together. Her temples were on fire now. "_Ăstrice ácwele._.." a sheaf of light began to grow in her hands, burning brightly, "..._forbærne!_" Sheila raised her hands, ready to send the lightning into her chest.

"_Gescildan!"_

The lightning was vanquished.

Bonnie stood behind Sheila; her eyes lit with both anger and compassion.

"What are you doing here, baby?" Sheila gurgled. She was trembling now. It was almost too late.

"You were gone too long," Bonnie spoke hoarsely with restrained tears. "I came to check on you, saw you come up here. So I followed you. Grams, what were you trying to do?"

"Bonnie, you shouldn't be here. I never wanted you to-" Sheila broke off. She felt like her head was about to split in two. Her mouth opened in a silent scream and she turned her back to Bonnie; was on all fours again as she made painful, ugly, dry heaves.

"Grams!" she rushed forwards to help. Something was horribly wrong.

"Stay back!" Sheila rallied just enough control, though her breath was still being torn from her body in strange, jerky sobs.

"Why won't you let me help you? What's going on?" Bonnie wailed, she was almost sobbing now.

"I love you, baby. And-" she was shaking uncontrollably now. "I'm...sorry. I—I didn't want it to—to—end up...like this. But...I'm beg-begging...you."

Bonnie froze. "What?"

Sheila somehow got to her feet, forced herself to move through the near blinding pain. Stared at her granddaughter for another moment – her so deeply loved face – hating what she was about to put her through.

"Please...please...kill me."

She actually saw the sequence of emotions flicker over Bonnie's face. Astonishment. Anger. Disbelief. Retreat.

"Listen to me, baby," Grams reached forward, managed to grab Bonnie's hand. "It's the only way," she broke off with a gasp as the pain worsened. "To...to stop...Sybilla." Bonnie couldn't breathe. "Half...my...soul. She sh-shares whatever...damage I t-take."

Suddenly, Sheila pushed Bonnie away with an anguished cry. Her hands flew to her head. "NO!"

"Grams!"

Sheila used every last bit of strength she had to pull herself together. She had to if she was going to convince Bonnie to do this. Make her understand.

"Please baby," she choked out. "Do it while I'm still in control of myself!"

"What are you saying?! I can't-" she shook her head fiercely, could barely see through her tears.

"Yes, you can, Bonnie! If you don't, I'll-"

Sheila let out a blood curdling scream. She collapsed to the floor, spasms wracking her body. Her eyes shot open, burning gold.

"Bonnie," she gasped, "run!"

The door to the insularium burst open. Stefan and Damon stood side by side, their chests heaving with air they didn't need. Black veins crawled over their faces and their eyes were crimson; their true faces, that of a predator, bare to see.

"You should have run when you had the chance."

Sheila was standing now, her face impassive. She didn't look tense, or emotionally affected.

"This isn't Grams," Bonnie didn't take her eyes off the witch that now possessed Sheila, body and soul.

The witch raised her hand, eyeing the digits with a speculative gleam in her eye. "Hmm. What a cheeky puppet," she sniffed. "It didn't have to happen like this. But you were so determined to avoid arrest, Bonnie. I had to change my plan," then, "_Mitere digneris sanctum_!"

Four winds burst through the chamber and twisted around the vampires. Their arms and legs locked, as though bound by invisible ropes, and they couldn't move.

"The more you struggle, the tighter the bonds become," the witch smiled. Now she turned to Bonnie.

"Stay away from her!" Damon snarled, ignoring the witch's words as he struggled against her enchantment.

"_Pater omnipotens tuum de Infernis!"_

"Bonnie!" Damon had never sounded so desperate, so out of control.

On the other side of the insularium door, he could hear Klaus and James trying to get in. But the witch must have cast another spell to keep them out.

Bonnie didn't move. She literally couldn't breathe, couldn't swallow, couldn't blink. Just stared at Damon through blurry eyes as the black flames grew higher and higher around her.

Something started to shudder inside Damon. Felt like it was tearing him apart, trying to claw its way out. His back arched as an excruciating pain intensified in his chest and violet light seemed to erupt on all sides. Then he felt a sudden, cool release of the pressure on his arms and legs.

"Impossible," the witch looked on in shock, as Damon somehow broke free of her spell and stumbled to his feet. Then that same violet light began to grow brighter and the witch vanished.

"Bonnie, what's happening?" Damon said urgently, suddenly standing in front of her. "What do I do? What do I do? Damnit Judgey! How do I help you?!" his voice more frantic with each steadily rising decibel.

She didn't respond. Couldn't.

And Damon did the only thing he could think of.

He stepped into the fire, not caring that the flames stung against his skin, and pulled her to him, wrapping himself around her.

"Hang in there, Judgey," he leaned his forehead against hers.

"Damon!"

Klaus and James broke through the door. Just in time to hear Stefan's horrified yell and see the black flames consume Damon and Bonnie. Another strong wind rushed through the insularium, this time washing the dark fire away.

When the flames faded, Bonnie and Damon had disappeared.

**TBC**

* * *

**NOTES: **

**i)** Phew! Another monster chapter! Did you all come through it with your nerves still intact – mine aren't lol! Next chapter will conclude what I see as part 1 of this tale. But we are nowhere near done – plenty of story to come.

**ii)** Bonnie and Sheila use good magic, so they use my mish-mash version of Old English, based on the Celtic family of languages, for their incantations. Sybilla uses black magic, so her incantations are based on Latin.

**iii)** According to my superficial research, "nathair" is a Gaelic word meaning "snake".

**iv)** "Zugzwang" is a term in chess and game theory. It describes a state of play where one is obliged to make a move, knowing that move will put you at a disadvantage.

**v)** I want to acknowledge the creative debt I owe to the works of Yana Toboso, Tanith Lee, Yuki Amemiya &amp; Yukino Ichihara, Neil Gaiman and the BBC's _Merlin _for inspiring some of the ideas in this chapter.

**vi)** Totally unrelated, but I've got some (hopefully) exciting fanfic news. Although we've still got a way to go yet with _**"The Ties that Bind"**_, an idea's gotten a hold of me for a brand, new Bonnie/Damon story. It's still in the planning stages, so it'll be a while before I post anything, but it will be a period romance, AU, Bamon-centric, also have a fair amount of focus on the relationships between Damon and Giuseppe, and Damon and Stefan, and have elements of the supernatural. I wondered, would there be interest in a story like this?

**Thanks for reading!** Reviews are adored and every word is appreciated. I'd be very happy to hear about the parts you most enjoyed, and even the parts you think could have been done better. :)


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